


Regular Miracles

by Dresupi



Series: Quicktaser Fics [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Budding Relationship, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Cunnilingus, Darcy Lewis-centric, Drinking Games, Eventual Smut, F/M, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kitchen Sex, Lies, Making Love, Meet-Cute, Meeting the Parents, Minor Wanda Maximoff/Vision, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Past Relationship(s), Pietro Maximoff Lives, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Romance, Schmoop, Slow Burn, Smut, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:31:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 48,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4408577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post AoU AU.  Pietro lives.  In which, Darcy is coming in with a freshly broken heart and that tall drink of Patron Silver lounging on Tony's couch looks like her next mistake. And Pietro is kind of a hound, but he's looking for more and finds it in Stark's outspoken, quirky lab assistant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Right Kind of Sinner

**Author's Note:**

> Some things you need to know before you read this: 
> 
> 1\. Post AoU/AU. Pietro Lives. Because. Okay?  
> 2\. The Avengers are back in the tower. Because...reasons...like I needed this to be in NYC.  
> 3\. Clint Barton is not married. He is a bandaid wearing coffee chugging mess of a beautiful human. Because that's how I love him. No offense to anyone who ships Clint/Laura. I don't.  
> 4\. Jane and Darcy were in Iceland during the events of AoU. They just got back.  
> 5\. This is tropey as hell and I don't even care.  
> 6\. All of Pietro's Sokovian 'mother language' is a combination of Serbian and Czech. Reason being, I couldn't find all the phrases I wanted in either language, so I combined them. I'll have translations at the bottom in the author's notes, but I tried to keep it to a minimum. (In AoU, it's stated that Sokovia is between Austria and Czech Republic, and all the signs and such are in Serbian. So that's why I chose those two languages as opposed to another Slavic language).
> 
> Heartbreaker, Pat Benetar. (Because that is totally on Darcy's iPod). 
> 
> Special thanks to heyfrenchfreudiana for beta reading this for me. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Draga-dear (Serbian)  
> Lutka- doll (Serbian)  
> Prelepa lutka-you are a beautiful doll (Serbian)

**Darcy**

The party was well underway when Darcy finally made her way up, stepping out of the elevator and into Tony’s apartment. 

Fashionably late.  By thirty minutes.  Check.

Hair.  Beach waves.  Gorgeous.  Check.

Make up.  Winged eyeliner.  Check.

Dress.  Brand new.  Cost: one month’s salary. Color: Blood of her enemies…or red.  Check.

Ass.  AMAZING.  Smack-your-momma-make-her-cry-amazing.  (Spanx were God’s gift to women, and nothing, not even Steve Rogers’ Dorito physique, could make her think otherwise).  DOUBLE check. 

Every single thing on point. 

Ye-aah.

She looked damn good. 

Not that she had anyone to impress…She actually hadn’t been doing MUCH business in the impression department for some time. Not since…

_NOPE.  Nope.  Do not think about that, Darce._

But she looked FUCKING good regardless. 

Music was booming, people were laughing, the booze was flowing.  This was going to be fun. 

“DARCY!!!”  Sam and Clint chorused from the bar. Their tone implied that it wasn’t the first time they’d called her over. 

Not her problem. It was so loud, how was she supposed to be expected to hear them?

She grinned and waved, turning in the direction of the bar. 

Everyone looked over as she crossed the floor.

_That’s right, bitches.  I’m like the Norm Fucking Peterson around these parts._

She kind of wished there was a breeze or something that could blow her hair back.  Or that she had a squad to enter with.  Something bad ass like that.  This was still pretty awesome.  She just had to concentrate on NOT falling on her face.  Not a huge issue since she’d opted for the three inch heels in lieu of something taller.  Three inches, she could run in without many problems.  And if being around these people for any length of time had taught her anything, it was that running for her life was a very real possibility.

She glanced around the room a little, trying to look bored, when she was practically giddy with excitement.  This was the first party she’d attended in six months that was NOT a rave. 

Iceland had been fun…well…that was a lie, it wasn’t really all that fun at all.  In retrospect. 

Two months of fun that led into three months of trying to get over HIM. Of trying to get over the used up feelings she was having to feel anyway.  Of the questions, the self-doubt.  And Darcy Lewis did NOT doubt herself.  No. 

And she certainly didn’t allow some douche like Lukas Jonssòn to make her question ANYTHING about herself. 

Except maybe her judgement.    

_The fucker had a green beard for fuck’s sake, Darce.  What the fuck were you thinking?_

_-That he looked like a pretty merman and maybe he’d reveal himself as such?_

_God…you’re so stupid. You’re back in New York.  Your friends are here, they are ready with beers and amazing wingmen skills…and if anyone can make you feel better, it’s them._

She smirked at Clint and Sam, beckoning her over to the bar. 

“Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home…” she murmured under her breath.

Avengers Tower was ANYTHING but humble, if she was being honest.

She stalked over like she was on her way to murder Captain America.  Death stare with a side order of sarcasm.  Heels clicking, and hips swaying ever so slightly. 

For the record, she’d NEVER murder Steve.  He was a cinnamon roll. Too pure.  To be protected at all costs. 

BUT it didn’t hurt to rock the femme fatale angle once in a while.  You kind of had to around these people.  When you were standing up beside Natasha Romanov, Maria Hill, Pepper Potts and Dr. Jane Foster, you had to hold your own. 

And Darcy was no master assassin, or intelligence agent, or savvy business woman, OR award winning astrophysicist…she was just Darcy.  So she had to bluff. 

She worked that bluff, though.  She owned it. 

Because she was as far from any of those things as was humanly possible.  She doubted her inclusion in this group of people on a daily basis.  Literally, the only reason she was here was because she was short an elective.  Which wouldn’t have even happened if she’d registered on time.

_Hi, I’m Darcy Lewis, and my super power is procrastination, AKA I’m a lazy ass…_

“Hey Darce…welcome back to the land of the living.” 

“Land of the living?  How were any of you living without me here?”

“Surprisingly well,” Clint retorted.  “How was Iceland?” 

“Cold.  And boring,” she answered stiffly, not really wanting to get pulled into a conversation about it.  It dredged up too many feelings that she’d been working hard to push down.

“Oh boy.  Hell for you, I bet.” 

_You have no idea._

“Yeah, well, it was no floating city in Sokovia, I’ll tell ya that.”

“That was a REAL blast, let me tell ya.  You have GOT to join us the next time one of Tony’s experiments tries to take over the world,” Clint replied, taking a swig of his beer. 

“I have to say, a simple nyan cat loop might have saved you the trouble.  There’s no way he could have seen nyan cat and felt murderous afterwards.  Or, ‘I can haz cheeseburger’?  Send Ultron to lolcats.  That’s how most everyone blocks out the terribleness that IS planet earth.” 

“Right…why didn’t WE think of that…?” Sam quipped. 

“I’m telling you…I don’t know how you survived without me.” 

“So…did Jane discover anything important?”

_God.  Stop bringing it up…_

“Know what?  I’d rather not talk about Iceland…I’d rather talk about some of the strapping young lads in this room that I haven’t met…” she started to scan the room. 

She felt them exchange a look.

“Oh my GOD, STOP.  There’s no hidden meaning other than I don’t want to talk about the barren wasteland that I was stuck in for the past six months.”

“Okay…” Clint said, raising his hands in front of him.  “I surrender, boss.” 

“Want a beer?” asked Sam. 

“Yeah…a beer and the deets on that young fellow out yonder…”

Her eyes settled on an unfamiliar face.  Unfamiliar face, unfamiliar rippling biceps, unfamiliar pronounced pecs, and unfamiliar gorgeous smile. His hair was a little weird, but she’d seen far worse than what appeared to be silver or grey.

_Lime green beard that glowed in the black light._

_Sleeve tattoos on muscular shoulders._

_Suspenders that he let her pull and pop before he took them off…_

_Fuck.  STOP. He fucked you over, none of it was real._

_None of it._

“Who?” 

“That tall drink of Patron Silver over by the couch…” 

“Oh…Pietro?”  Sam chuckled. 

“What?  What’s funny?” 

“Nothing…” 

“You don’t think I could get him?  I could get him.  I’d eat him for breakfast…” 

“I don’t doubt it…you could have any guy in the room if you tried hard enough.”

“I don’t want to try, though. I just want to have. And that man looks like my next mistake.”

“Clint could introduce you, he knows him pretty well,” Sam chuckled knowingly. 

There was a story there.

“Hmm? I hear my name?” Clint swiveled in his stool.

“Darcy wants to meet Pietro,” Sam informed him. 

“Pietro?  That’d be a little awkward to call out in the throes of passion…three syllables…PIETRO…sounds like a male supermodel or something…” she mused.

Sam was hardly hiding a grin behind his hand.  Clint was, but his eyes gave away his mirth. 

“What?  Is he not into girls?” 

“Oh no, he’s into girls.” 

More manly giggling.  They were really starting to annoy her with this.

She frowned, repeating the name again, “Pietro? What even…what kind of name is that?  Russian? OOO, wait! Is he the new guy?” 

She’d heard tell of a few changes in the Avengers line up.  Banner was gone.  On the lam.  And Tony had created life.  In the form of an android with JARVIS’ voice.  And then there were the twins.  Weird and Fast.  Pietro must be “Fast.”

Clint made a face.  “Darce…he’s a little shit…don’t do that to yourself.” 

“Why?  He’s hawt…” she craned her neck to see him better.  Being this short sucked sometimes. She tucked her knee under her on the stool so she could see over the heads. “I mean look at him…over there with like a million girls flocking around him…Jesus H. Christ…” she flopped down in the seat.  “I’m not wading through the hordes to be another notch on his bedpost.   Fuck that.”   

He was starting to remind her of something she’d rather forget. A couple dozen somethings with a certain green bearded merman douche nozzle.

“You sure?  I bet you could probably squeeze more than one notch out of him.  You’re magical like that…” Clint prodded. 

“Nah.  He practically has a sign on his forehead…’must be THIS thirsty to ride this ride.’”  She held her hand up about six inches over the top of her head.  “I’m through throwing myself at jerks who don’t give a fuck.”

_Jerks who take all your money and use you for your apartment…_

_Pill popping fuckwad jerks._

So many words flying around in her head.  She took long swig on her beer bottle.  If she couldn’t silence them, she’d drown them.

“You’re telling me you AREN’T that thirsty?” 

She pressed her lips together and shook her head.  “Not this time…”    

She looked around, trying to find something to fixate on, something to ground her before she started blubbering like the huge mess she was. She spotted Rhodey on the other side of the room, trying to get Clint’s attention.  She elbowed him.  “You’re being summoned.” 

“Ah…I’ll be back.  Save my seat.” 

“I’ll try…” she promised his retreating back.    

She swiveled around in her stool and called over the bartender, intent on ordering something a BIT stronger.

“Eh _Draga_...what are you drinking?  Allow me to get it for you,” said what sounded like a Russian villain from a cartoon starring a certain moose and squirrel.

“Thanks, Boris…but it’s an open bar so…” she turned towards the voice and came face to face with Tall, Quick and Muscular.  “And did you just call me a dragon?” 

He was even hotter up close. 

_God, why do you hate me so?_

His eyes were blue and twinkling.  His hair was a mess, sticking every which way.  It worked for him, though.  Dark stubble covering his face. And those arms.  All veiny and hairy and…sweet mother, MANLY. 

_Christ, I could just spread him on a cracker…be still, my ovaries._

“ _Draga_ …it means…eh…I think you might call it ‘bae’?”

_PET NAMES IN RUSSIAN…Ukrainian…something.  Kill me now.  Strike me the fuck down._

She summoned up the self-control of a nun in the presence of… _someone more sinful than Pietro…uh…can’t think of anyone…fuck it._   A nun in the presence of Pietro.  She wrinkled her nose.  “Not a big fan of ‘bae’ in English, so…” 

He pouted, “You do not like it?  Let me see…what are you…?” He peered intently at her.  His eyes sweeping over her face. And a few towns south of her face. 

_What AM I?  Good grief, what a line.  So fucking cheesy._

His lips parted, his tongue poked out slightly, the tip swiping along his teeth.

_Can’t believe it’s working…keep that tongue in your mouth.  Or my mouth.  Fuuuuucccckkkk._

“You eh…have a beautiful face…” He grinned, “ _Lutka_?  Do you like that?”

She could swear that his tone changed as he said that. As if suddenly he wasn’t asking her about nicknames anymore.

_Do I like that?  Fuck yes.  Spank me. Take me roughly on this bar.  I don’t give a fuck._

She swallowed, croaking out, “What’s it mean?”

“ _Lutka_ …is a doll? ‘ _Prelepa lutka_ ’ _._ ” his voice had dropped an octave and in volume.  She had to lean closer to hear him. 

_Oh my god, Darcy…snap out of it.  He probably calls every single girl ‘Lutka’._

He grinned widely, his eyes twinkling.  “You like it? You’d like to be my _lutka_?”

_HIS?_

She was torn between either tearing off her panties or tearing him a new one.

“YOURS?” she asked, opting impulsively for the latter.

She wasn’t entirely certain if he was truly being THAT much of a douche nozzle, or if she was unfairly comparing him to a man who had dragged her heart through the mud with her self-worth in the side car. 

“Hey Darce…this guy bothering you?” asked Sam, cocking an eyebrow and gesturing towards the Czar of Misogyny to her left.  Obviously joking, but she was inclined to take him seriously.  She needed to distance herself from this rather LARGE GLARING mistake waiting to happen.  She’d been hankering for a new one, but not one this big.  Not while she was still healing.  Not one that could damage her more than she could damage him. 

“Oh…Sam…I apologize…was I trying to pick up YOUR woman?” Pietro smirked.

Darcy frowned.

In retrospect, looking back on the following interchange would cause her endless embarrassment.  Because he probably WASN’T being an intentional misogynist at all. 

But…she wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind.

“Lemme get you a spoon for that grave you’re digging, Boris,” she seethed.

Sam sucked his teeth, “It was nice knowing you, man…” 

“Make no mistake, Manbaby…I belong to NO ONE…Just because I’m alone doesn’t give YOU the right to come onto me… and give me a nickname without even asking what my ACTUAL name is?  Who the fuck are you?  It’s DARCY, by the way…in case you wanted to know.  Not that you’d remember.  I know your type…all…player-y…probably give pet names to everyone just so you don’t have to remember their real names? It’s probably over so quickly that you barely have time to blink, let alone cry out someone’s name…that’s why they call you Quicksilver, isn’t it?”

“No…they call me Quicksilver because you apply heat and I rise…” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, his eyes flitting back down to her chest for the second time.

_Oh fuck me…why is that hot?_

_-He’s objectifying me.  That’s not hot._

It wasn’t the clear objectification that pissed her off, it was the urge to do the same to him.  To let her gaze flick south, see if he was yanking her chain.  His jeans were tight enough.  Tight enough to see if anything had ‘risen’. 

_I need Jesus.  I’m just as bad as him with his ogling and his obvious lusting and…_

“Just…do me a favor, I know the ladies are nice, but they aren’t much for conversation…” She gestured down to her chest.  “My face is up here.”

He grinned crookedly, “You wore that dress so people would look at your…face?  Which is…lovely, by the way.  But the…ladies are a bit distracting…so distracting as not to be…accidental.”

 _And you’re not wearing those jeans to show off your just as distracting bulge either. Oh fuck me, I looked. There are PEOPLE present, Darce.  Show some class._   

“Fuck.  YOU,” she narrowed her eyes.

His smile melted into something positively sinful.  “Not yet…I do not even know your last name. We just met, I have not even taken you OUT…” 

She snorted, “FINE.  Tell you what…you learn my last name, and I’ll go out with you.  Whatever you want, Wonder Boy.”

She turned, grabbing her half empty beer bottle and stalking from the room, not entirely sure why she’d offered that ultimatum.  It would be easy as hell for him to learn her last name.

Maybe she wanted him to. 

Resolve all this sexual tension. 

And get to the part where he threw her out like a used Kleenex. 

As the elevator doors closed, she let out the breath she’d been holding, her sides aching from the effort of holding herself up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: 13/1/18 - Thanks to abbie-a-aaronson for the Serbian translations. I know Sokovian isn't a real language, but I didn't want to be disrespectful to any native speakers of Serbian. I apologize if anyone was offended by my google translate-frankenlanguage.


	2. There's Not A Lot I Can Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see Pietro's POV of the previous chapter. He's looking for more than a one night stand. At least two or three nights, sheesh. 
> 
> Some Steve Rogers (Son, just don't) 
> 
> Wanda and Vision (heart eyes). I have little to no idea how to write the Vision...so I took a little from EMH, a little of Bruce Banner's dry wit, and Jarvis' helpful spirit...I hope he came off alright. He REALLY wants Pietro to like him, but he doesn't want to push it. 
> 
> And Pietro doesn't like him because canonically, in the comics, he didn't really like Vision and his sister initially.
> 
> Breakfast in America, Supertramp. Because.
> 
> And special thanks to heyfrenchfreudiana for beta reading this for me. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beruska- Ladybug (a Czech term of endearment)  
> Draga- dear (Serbian)  
> Lutka- doll (Serbian)  
> Ti si lepa lutka- you are a beautiful doll (Serbian)  
> Kanec- Pig (Czech insult, meaning inherent)
> 
> Big chunk of italicized means flashback.

**Pietro**

He excused himself, no easy feat.

These women were starving and by the looks of it, he was the main course. 

He had not been sure about moving here, living in the home of the very man who he had wanted dead months before. 

But he had not had much choice in the matter, given that he was gravely injured and presumed dead. 

Now, though…it was not so bad. 

His own apartment.  By himself.  Not that he didn’t spend lots of nights on Wanda’s couch, but it was nice to have his own space.

Well…it was his own, but he was scarcely alone in it.   

Especially since his popularity amongst the beautiful American female masses became apparent. 

Stark even gave him an expense account.  Which was…very nice. 

He wasn’t complaining.  Much.  

Except right now, the air around him was suffocating.  It made everything hurt. 

He had to practically pry their hands off him in order to leave. 

It was happening again.  He couldn’t breathe. 

And Wanda had informed him that it was perceived as rude when he simply zipped across the room without saying goodbye or announcing his absence. 

Which he thought defeated the purpose, but whatever. 

When his chest felt crushed by the air around him, thick with perfume and alcohol, the last thing he wanted to do was to announce that he was leaving, let alone where he’d be. 

When the last manicured hand had been pried off his shirt, he ran out to the balcony for fresh air. The cold felt better.  It felt like home.

It wasn’t any quieter outside.  It was never quiet here. That was probably the one thing he liked about New York. 

The clichés were right.  It was the city that never slept.  It was the only thing he had in common with his new home.     

“Are you alright?” Wanda’s voice was so soft.  He almost didn’t hear her, except his ears were so attuned to her voice, low and wavery. Inquisitive.  

“I needed some air.”

“Did it happen again?” she asked, even though she likely knew the answer.  Probably didn’t even have to hear his thoughts to know.

“Almost.” 

“I am sorry.”

He shook his head and smiled at her.  “Do not waste your thoughts on your big brother.  He can take care of himself.” He glanced back at the doorway to see The Vision standing…er…HOVERING there near the doorway. 

_Can he not leave her for five minutes?_

“Pietro…” she admonished.  “You know why he’s here.” 

His eyes flitted over to the android momentarily before he decided to drop it.  Rehashing this same old argument never seemed to work out for him. 

_“Why, Wanda…WHY?”_

_She shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips.  “He makes me happy, Pietro…I am lonely.”_

_“You have me.”_

_She gave him a look.  “Not the kind of lonely that you can help with. BROTHER.”_

_He grimaced, not really wanting to think of his sister as someone with THOSE kinds of urges.  He’d prefer to think of her as someone who didn’t have…needs._

_“And he CAN?” he countered, despite himself._

_She raised an eyebrow, “Do you really want the answer to that?”_

_“NE…No…never…no.  Forget I asked.”_

_“He makes me smile.  No one makes me smile. I like me when I am with him…do you understand that?”_

_No, he did not. Not that he wanted loneliness for his sister.  Her lovely soul deserved happiness._

_“Wanda…Beruska…you have to understand…you are already weird…”_

_She flinched, looking down at the floor._

_“No…do not think that way…you know I love you no matter what and I will support you…but they call us ‘The twins, Weird and Fast.’  I’m Fast, you are Weird.  And when you fall in love with a robot man…well…it does not help matters.”_

_“He is not a robot man.  He’s a man…man.”_

_“STARK’S robot man, no less.”_

_“He’s Banner’s as well.”_

_“Yes.  Yet another who threatened your life.”_

_“I deserved it from him.  The things I did to his mind…” she shivered.  “I wish I could take it all back, but I cannot.”_

_“Beruska…you must stop blaming yourself for things you did in the past.”_

_“That is what I am trying to do.  Vision…he…helps me.  He helps me see things in a different way.  He helps me accept ME, for what I am.  Right now.  Not the past.”_

“Pietro…” her hand appeared on his arm.  “We should go back inside.” 

He nodded, following her and her robot man back into the building. 

“Can you at least…walk? Like a person?” he blurted. 

The Vision immediately began walking, matching pace with himself and Wanda. At least he wasn’t trying to argue with him.  If nothing else, he…it…he seemed to understand when Pietro could handle an argument. 

He grumbled under his breath and took off around the odd couple, stopping in the middle of the room to try to decide where to go next. 

“PIETRO!” some loud feminine voices catcalled from behind him

He could go back to the couch, but that thought was less than tantalizing.  

His gaze wandered to the bar, where he spied an empty stool beside a shapely brunette in a red dress. 

She was different.  He had never seen her before. 

Different was good. 

She flipped that mass of dark brown hair over her shoulder and swiveled in the stool to talk to the man sitting next to her. 

_Sam.  The Falcon._

_Was she with him?_

Her body language was…inconclusive…but her body…his eyes dragged up and down her front, lingering on the cleavage that her low cut dress revealed.  Not plunging. Tasteful.  Left something to the imagination. 

And he had never been accused of having no imagination.   

Right now he was imagining that dress on his bedroom floor and those…lovely legs and breasts and the rest of her beneath him on his sheets. 

He quickly made his way to the stool beside her, beating out another man who had been closing in. 

She was in the process of ordering a drink. 

“Eh… _Draga…_ what are you drinking?  Allow me to get it for you,” he let his words swim out smoothly, melting into the air around him. 

In his experience, women loved that. 

“Thanks, Boris, but it’s an open bar so…” she turned to face him, her big doe eyes giving him a quick once over, she knit her brows in confusion.  “Did you just call me a dragon?”

_Boris? Dragon?_

“ _DRAGA…_ it means…” he struggled to find an English equivalent of the word.  “I think you’d call it…bae?”  He chose a word that he’d heard one of the other girls call him that night.  Bae. 

She wrinkled her nose, squinting her eyes and puckering those full lips.  Full red lips. “Not a big fan of ‘bae’ in English so…"

_Stop focusing on those luscious…plump…lips…there will be plenty of time for that later._

He poked out his bottom lip, widening his eyes.  “You do not like it?  Let me see...What are YOU?” He looked at her face.  Really looked at it.  Big eyes, tiny nose, full lips…pale skin…like a doll.

“You eh…have a beautiful face… _Lutka_?  Do you like that?”

She gulped.  That was a good sign. “What’s it mean?” she asked quietly, leaning forward on her elbow.

“ _Lutka_ …is a doll? _Ti si lepa lutka.”_

She looked surprised.  As if she expected it to be something dirty. 

_Oh no, little doll…that’s for later._   

“You like it? You’d like to be my _lutka_?”

She snapped backwards, her expression changing immediately.  “YOURS?” 

_What…is happening?_

“Darcy, is this guy bothering you?” Wilson laughed nervously, probably sensing the clear and present danger, turned and looked between them.

And she started in on a rant that was at once too fast for him to keep up with.  He caught a few words.  “Manboy,” said with disdain, and her sudden dislike for her nickname and _hey…I remember names. I remember all the names.  And…NO.  Quicksilver does NOT refer to my…stamina._

“No…they call me Quicksilver because you apply heat and I…rise.” To the contrary, he felt his eyes being pulled down towards her chest again. He was going to lose her respect if he kept that up.

But they looked so nice…very nice.  Better than nice…

“Just…do me a favor, I know the ladies are breathtaking, but they aren’t much for conversation…” She gestured down to her chest.  “My face is up here.”

And for some reason, words tumbled out of his mouth unbidden, uncensored, “You wore that dress so people would look at your…face?  Which is…lovely, by the way.  But the…ladies ARE a bit distracting…so distracting as not to be…accidental.”

So far past distracting.    

“Fuck.  YOU,” she positively glared at him. 

_Fuck you, you are beautiful._

“Not yet…I do not even know your last name. We just met, I have not even taken you out…” 

_Because that’s what I’m thinking about. Dinner.  A movie.  Anything with this gorgeous woman who hates my guts._

She snorted, “FINE.  Tell you what…you learn my last name, and I’ll go out with you.  Whatever you want, Wonder Boy.”

_Challenge accepted._

He watched her leave.  He couldn’t do anything else, not with the way she swigged that beer and stalked off in those heels flawlessly. 

He looked back at the small group of people paying attention, beaming widely.  He zeroed in on Sam. 

“No.” Sam shook his head.  “Hell no.” 

“Please?” 

“No…”  

He sighed in frustration, leaving to find someone else who might know her last name. 

He stopped in front of Steve, who was currently looking down at his phone. 

“Rogers, I have a question…” 

“If this is about Darcy…I can’t disclose any information…” 

Pietro groaned, “Really?” 

“Just got a mass text…specifying not to reveal any information about Darcy to you…but more is to come…and there it is…” he read it and chuckled.  “You like Darcy?” 

“Of course…what I know of her I like…don’t you?” 

“Oh yeah…I mean, everyone likes Darcy.  But you…NEXT LEVEL like Darcy.” 

Pietro rolled his eyes, “Why don’t you have a word for this?  English is…confusing.  You have fourteen different ways to order a hamburger…but you have no word for…THIS…it is clear where the priorities lie. I am attracted to Darcy and romantically…pursuing her.” 

Steve grinned, “That’s cute. You have my blessing.” 

“Sooo…you will tell me her last name?” 

“Not a chance.” 

He groaned again.  Louder and more annoyed. 

“Looks like you’ve got quite a predicament here.” 

“Does it really, Rogers?  I had not noticed.” 

“Yes.  Because not only did I get this message, the rest of the team got it…”

_No…whyyyy?_

“Including Tony…” 

“Stark got it?” 

“Yep…which means he immediately sent a copy to everyone employed here.  And I’m willing to bet he’s updated FRIDAY as well.” 

“Of course he has…”

“FRIDAY?  Do you have any information on Darcy?” Rogers smiled, not even trying to hide that he found this amusing.   

FRIDAY answered, “Darcy REDACTED’s file has been closed.  File notes: Suck it Pietro.” 

Pietro snorted, “No witty nickname, Stark?” 

The AI continued, “Further notes: Suck it Sonic the Douchehog.”

“You had to ask…” Steve paused, “uh…before you go…” 

“What?” 

He chuckled once.  “I have to say this…but if you hurt her…” he shook his head.  “Just don’t.” 

Pietro scoffed, “Why would I?” 

Rogers shrugged, “Not sure.  But it wouldn’t be the first stupid thing you’ve ever done. It’d be right on par with grabbing Mjolnir that one time.”    

He grumbled under his breath and took off, looking around for Wanda.

He found both of them: Wanda and the robot, seated by a window. 

“There you are…”

She smirked, “Yes.  Here I am.  And I am NOT going to tell you what Darcy’s last name is…” 

“Wanda…” he whined, “you are my sister…don’t you want me to be happy?” 

“You just met the girl.” 

“Yes, and she is all I can think about.”

“This minute.”

“What is THAT supposed to mean?”

“Pietro, I love you.  But you are so stupid.” 

“Please, Wanda.  Tell me.  I want to know her.”  

“No.  If you want to know her, get to know her.  Honestly, I do not see it.  I think she could do better.” 

He clutched his chest.  “You wound me.”

“Go away, _kanec._ I have no interest in getting you another one-night stand.” 

“This is not a one-night stand. I have already put too much effort into this for a one night stand.  This is two, three nights at least.  If I wanted one night…” he gestured around the room.  “Throw a rock.” 

She sighed, “Let me put it this way…if you put forth more effort, you will receive…greater returns.” 

He nodded, “Right…” he grinned salaciously, “Like kinky stuff.” 

“UGH…Pietro…just…go away.” 

“No!  No, you have to help me.  You are my sister.” 

“I AM your sister.  And I love you.  But if you cannot take this seriously, you would do well to move on.  She is…a good person.  Too good for you.  You have to be…serious.  Think with your head.  Not with any other…appendages,” she grimaced.  

“But how can I be serious when I do not even know her name?” 

“If I may…” the Vision interjected. 

“Oh.  Here we go.  Here it is…the ROBOT MAN is going to tell me about women.”  He leaned forward, listening in mock attention. 

Wanda smacked the back of his head.  “Pay attention.” 

He continued, “Darcy has given you a task.  There are two ways to complete the task. One is the easy way.  The short cut.  The one she likely expects you to take.  It is the path you are on currently.  The other is more difficult, but infinitely more rewarding.  I would advise you to choose wisely.  Ms.…” he smirked and shook his head, apparently almost revealing her last name, “Darcy…is a favorite with the entire team.  She is charming and witty, which I’m sure you already know.  If you aren’t prepared for a longer endeavor, I’d suggest leaving her alone.  To maintain the respect of both her and the entire team.” 

 Pietro blinked and looked over at Wanda.  “I HATE him.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, leave a comment maybe? I <3 those. I'm absolutely ecstatic at the response this has gotten so far. I'm flipping out, y'all. I'm like...comments? PLURAL? WHAAAA????
> 
> Much loveys.


	3. Me debo ir o quedarme?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two POVs in this one! 
> 
> Should I Stay Or Should I Go, The Clash. Chapter title is one of the Spanish lyrics from the second verse, "Should I cool it or should I blow?" Thought it was appropriate. 
> 
> Extra special thanks to heyfrenchfreudiana for beta reading this for me! She is awesome. 
> 
> Some drinking/drunken behavior in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurňa-Fuck (Czech)  
> Ježišmarjá- Jesus Christ (Czech)  
> Princeza- Princess (Serbian)  
> Tako si lepa- You are so beautiful (Serbian)

**Pietro**

“What is ‘True Avenger’?” Pietro asked, looking between the giddy faces before him. 

“It’s our version of True American…” Clint explained.  “Except instead of American History, it’s Wii bowling.  And instead of beers, it’s Asgardian ale for you guys…” he gestured towards Pietro, Steve and Thor.

“I…do not know what that is.” 

“It is ALE, from Asgard.  It’s much stronger than Midgardian ale,” Thor explained with a smirk.  Obviously he knew what ale was.

Pietro glared in response, “I do not know what True American is.” 

“Maybe he played True Sokovian…” Stark muttered under his breath.

“If True Sokovian is where you live out your childhood in an orphanage because…some rich millionaire… munitions dealer killed your parents…then yes.  I am quite adept at True Sokovian,” he said dryly. 

“Well.  You certainly are adept at being a BUZZKILL…” Tony took a sip of his drink. 

“Shut up, Tony…” Clint gestured to the living room.  “Okay…so we have the coffee table in the middle here…there’s a bottle of whiskey in the center.  That’s the king…these stylish red solo cups are filled with beer, the blue with Asgardian ale…you would take blue cups, Kid. The red and blue cups are the pawns and secret knights of the order…the game ends when all the pawns have been removed and the winner takes a drink from the king.” 

He nodded, “Okay…when do I take one?” 

“Getting to it…everyone will shotgun a beer/ale.  Whoever does it the fastest goes first.  That player will get to take their pick of spaces...” he gestured to the couches, chairs, cushions and pillows strewn on the floor. “Everyone else starts on the edges.  You get to move by completing tasks, as chosen by whoever’s turn it is.  There are three tasks, The Count, Wii Bowling, and Something In Common…” 

As he explained the rules, Pietro felt like he understood the game less than before if that was possible. 

“How do you win?” he asked, since that was the most important part of this to him. 

“Once all the pawns are gone, and you have no more beers, you win by drinking the king at the end of your turn.” 

“And once I win, you’ll tell me Darcy’s last name?” 

“Of course…” Clint exchanged a look with Sam.  “IF you win.” 

Pietro scoffed, “Of course I will win, Old Man.  I always win. I am the best.” 

“Not sure speed is going to help you here…” Steve warned.

He zipped out to the couch.  “It does not matter.  I have only had super speed for a year or so.  I have been winning far longer than that.” 

“Oh, and don’t forget that the ground is lava!” Natasha vaulted over the misplaced couch to stand beside Steve. 

Pietro was slightly surprised that an old fuddy duddy like Steve would do anything as silly as play a drinking game. 

Admittedly, he had barely been around him in a social setting, only in a training one.  This might be fun. 

“Do you know ‘the ground is lava’?” asked Tony. 

He rolled his eyes, “Of course.  Everyone knows ‘the ground is lava’…”

“Alright, Speedy, just sit back, relax, and prepare to have your smart ass handed to you…” Stark quipped in reply.

“Please…I am up against all of you old men...and Natasha.” 

“And Natasha?” she raised an eyebrow.  “Choose your next words carefully, Maximoff, or they might very well be your last.” 

“Nothing like that.  You are Russian.  You can probably hold your liquor…better than all of these idiots…but…come on…I am younger than you.  AND Sokovian.  This will be…eh…no contest.” 

* * *

 

 _Famous last words,_ He thought groggily as Natasha took a swig from the center bottle.  “Bow to your queen, gentlemen!” her voice boomed. 

“Not fair…I had to drink…Asgardian…” he hiccupped.  “Stuff…” He curled up on the couch.  There was no cushion, so he was on the springs, but he didn’t really care at the moment.  He was just so tired. 

A hand flopped up to swat at him.  Clint’s.  “You were never gonna…” it swatted again, “Gonna…” Again.  “What were you saying?” 

“I almost won.  Tell me her last name.” 

“You almost won…oh look at that, I ALMOST told you her last name.” 

“ _Kurňa_ …” he grumbled. 

 “NO, I’M NOT PLAYING RED HANDS WITH YOU, STEVE!”  Tony protested loudly.  “YOU HURT!” 

“Tony come on…it doesn’t hurt,” Steve punched him playfully in the arm. 

“I literally just told you that it hurts.  Leave me alone.” 

“Fight me, Thor!” He abandoned Stark and aggressively bumped into Thor with his shoulder, who chuckled and returned the gesture. 

“Rogers.  You should go home.” 

“Fight me!”

Pietro frowned.  “Is he always this loud?” 

Clint flopped his hand again, “Yeah.  Usually. Wants to fight everyone…rude.”

Pietro groaned as his stomach churned and he suddenly remembered his predicament, “Well…I guess this is over…”

“What is?”

“This…thing with Darcy. I have not spoken to her since I made an ass of myself at the party…I should just…eh…hang it up.” 

“Nah…” Clint gestured into the air.     

Everyone was silent for a moment. 

“You know what women like?” Stark began, flopping down on the couch beside Pietro.  “Honesty.  I should know.  I’ve NEVER been honest in a relationship.  And look at me now.  I’m all alone.  Not another soul in the world…” he sniffed. 

“Tony…” Natasha eyed him suspiciously.  “You have Pepper.” 

“Oh yeah!” His face lit up.  “Pepper.  I love her.  And I’m always honest with Pepper.  Eventually.  And she LOVES me. So yeah…honesty.” He nodded as if he’d actually said something. 

Clint popped up.  “I have an idea!  You should just…be HONEST with her, man.  Like Tony said.  Women love that.  So just go tell her what you want.  You don’t need to know her name to RESPECT her.  Or to respect YOURSELF.  You have to be true to yourself, Pietro.  And one more thing…I’m REALLY thirsty…is there more beer?” 

“Are any of you LISTENING to this?  Steve?  Thor? Some help?” Natasha turned to face them. 

“Fight me, Natasha,” Steve raised an eyebrow suggestively. 

“Not now Rogers.  I think you need to go lie down.” 

“I think I’m ready to turn in as well…I’m feeling tired and almost ready to fight him if he were to ask me again…” Thor admitted. 

“That’s right.  RUN.  Run before I punch you in your big Norse face.” 

“Good night Captain Rogers,” the Asgardian said dismissively. 

“I’m taking Steve home…don’t do anything stupid until I get back…” Natasha eyed the three of them on the couch. “Where’s Sam?”

“Back here…” came a muffled voice from behind the couch.  “I fell back here in round 8, and I think I fell asleep…”  

“We had 8 rounds?” Tony asked. 

“We had 10…” she replied.

“Oh.  Wow.” 

“We’d have had more if Thor didn’t keep breaking the Wii motes.” 

Thor shrugged, “I don’t understand why they are so flimsy.  They are for games, correct?” 

Natasha rolled her eyes and pushed him out of the room, tugging Steve’s arm and dragging him behind her.  He responded by swatting her ass as she went through the door. 

“Hey…don’t get fresh, Soldier…”

“You’ve never complained before…” he grinned goofily at her. 

“MARCH!” she ordered, a slight smile playing on her lips.  

“Yes, MA’AM!” he agreed enthusiastically as he followed her from the room. 

Tony’s mouth hung open until they were gone.  “How long has THAT been going on?” 

Clint peered out the door after them.

“As long as I have known them…” Pietro replied for him.  “I thought that was something everyone knew about?” 

“Not all of us have a psychic sister, Sonic.” 

He shrugged, bored with the turn the conversation had taken. He stretched out his legs.  “So you are saying I should…go talk to her now?” 

“Who?” 

He sighed, “Darcy.”

“YOU TOTALLY SHOULD!” 

“But, uh…what do I say?” 

“The truth.  Just tell her the truth…the truth will set you free,” Clint said.    

Tony smacked his arm, “Did you just quote Shakespeare?” 

Clint shook his head.  “NO.” 

“What am I thinking of?” 

“How the hell should I know?” 

“To thine own self be true…” came Sam’s muffled reply from behind the couch.

Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at Sam.  Not really AT Sam, because they couldn’t see him.  More at Sam’s general direction.

“I just…tell her the truth?”  

Clint nodded, “Yes…but…what is the truth?” 

“That I want to see her naked?  That her breasts keep me up at night?” 

“Her breasts keep you up at night? That’s IMPRESSIVE.  They’re all the way in her apartment…” the archer quipped lazily. 

“Okay…um…” Sam protested, still behind the couch “I’m not ENTIRELY 100% on this, but I think we should wait for Natasha.” 

“No way, man.  She won’t let us do anything fun.  Plus, we’ll be waiting all night…” Clint waved him off.

“Why?” 

“We’re waiting for Steve to get tired and go to sleep. If we have to wait for Captain America’s stamina to…wain, we’re going to be here all night.” 

Tony looked conflicted.  He shook his head before he spoke.  “Pete…Pete…Can I call you Pete?” 

Pietro shook his head, “I do not like that.” 

“I’m gonna call you Pete…listen, Pete…I’m gonna have to agree with the couch troll on this…”   

_That is…surprising…Stark thinks this is a bad idea…so…_

Clint scoffed, “No way! YOLO, Kid!  Carpe Diem!  Seize the mother-fuckin’ DAY!”

_Stark says it is bad. Clint says it is good… I should DEFINITELY do it, then…_

He stood up and sat back down immediately.  Partially due to the head rush, partially because… “No, wait, I don’t know what to say.” 

The archer patted his shoulder, “I’ll tell you what to say.  Have you ever read the play, ‘Cyrano De Bergerac’?” 

“No…” 

“Well, it’s about this ugly guy with a big nose who is in love with this woman.  So he gets this good looking dumb guy to talk to her and feeds him all the words.” 

“Okay…wait…am I Big Nose Ugly or Good Looking Dumb?” 

“Good Looking Dumb.” 

“But…then…YOU are in love with Darcy?” 

“NO, Jesus.  I’m just going to feed you the words.  Your truth…maybe leave out the wanting to have sex with her/breasts keep you up at night bit…”

“But that was it…that was all I said.” 

“Okay…you can’t just want sex with her, or I’m not going to help you.” 

“I do not know anything about her…I…I should just drop it…”

“YES. YES.  Just drop it,” Tony exclaimed.  Sam whooped in agreement from behind the couch.     

Clint rolled his eyes.  “No one knows anything about anyone until you find it out.  No better way than drunk, dude…” he tugged on his arm and swayed slightly. “Whoa.  Rooms-a-spinnin’.  Watch out.”

“How is Pietro being drunk going to help matters, Clint?” Sam asked. 

“His inhibitions are down.”   

“I KNEW I remembered that name…Cyrano de Bergerac…I have the porn of that,” Tony said suddenly.  “The acting’s terrible, but the dialogue is great.” 

“Probably took it from the play,” Clint said knowingly. 

“Yeah, but there’s some stuff in this that I’m sure isn’t in the play…like does Cyrano have a dick for a nose?” 

“No…” 

“Yeah.  He does in this.” 

“Okay…” Clint raised his eyebrows, nodding, “well…shall we?”

“NO.  Come get me out first,” Sam called. 

“Tony.  Help the man,” Clint nodded towards the couch. 

Honestly, Pietro was having a hard time keeping up with all the moving parts of this conversation.  He tried to concentrate on the goal.

Darcy was the goal.

The goal he wasn’t even all that sure about now that he thought about it. 

Wanda was right.  He barely knew this girl.  And she hadn’t shown any interest in him whatsoever since Stark’s party earlier that week.  She had not made any attempt to contact him.  

So why was he so invested in this?

Was it really as simple as he wanted what he could not have?  Was he really that childish? 

He did not need to drink this ale anymore.  It made him too introspective.  And who the hell needs that? 

Pietro stood and tried to run out to the kitchen for some water. 

TRIED because once he started running, he quickly discovered that he had trouble stopping.  Unfortunately for his stomach and ribs, not quickly enough. 

He rolled over on to the floor after he rammed into the kitchen island.  _“Ježišmarjá…”_ He groaned and clutched his stomach.

“Walk it off, partner…” Clint helped him stand. 

“I should not run…” he wheezed, bending at the waist to place his hands on his knees.  He tried to concentrate on breathing so he wouldn’t vomit. 

“That’s why I said walk it off…come on.  Before you lose your nerve.” 

As it turned out, in addition to introspection, Asgardian Ale made him extremely susceptible to suggestion.

He stumbled at first, but he somehow made his way to the door Clint pointed out. The archer stayed a few paces behind him, so he could shout whisper his lines to him.

And he did not really know what they were, they had not gotten this far in the plans yet.

Somehow, he made his way down the hall.  Even though it felt like it was moving instead of him. 

He reached out to knock on her door, his knuckles rapping louder than he thought possible. Making him jump.

There was no answer. 

He looked down at Clint, who mimed knocking louder. 

Which he did, which made him jump more. 

“I’m coming, Jesus Christ…” he heard her yell. 

The locks slid and the door knob rattled as she opened it.  She was standing there, blinking at him.  Her hair was a mess and she looked beautiful.  Absolutely fucking beautiful.  Her hair was flowing, like spun chocolate.    

“ My  _princeza…”_ he grinned and reached out towards her. “ _Tako si lepa…”_

“Pietro?” she frowned, on edge. 

His stomach hurt. 

“Maximoff?  Kid…are you gonna…?” he faintly heard Clint to his left. 

He gagged. 

* * *

 

**Darcy**

A loud banging woke her up. 

She sat up in bed, wondering what fresh hell awaited her. 

_Are we under attack?_

No…it wasn’t that.  She checked the clock.  2 am. 

The banging continued, louder this time. Someone at the door. 

She got up, shuffling out to the living room barefoot.  She looked down to see what she was wearing.  Big black t-shirt with ripped collar.  Beautiful.  At least her ass wasn’t hanging out. 

“I’m coming…Jesus Christ…” she called. 

She peered out the peep hole, surprised to see Pietro standing there.  Even from the peephole, she could tell he was drunk off his ass.  Swaying slightly on his feet. 

“Oh fuck me…” she muttered. 

She did NOT sign up for this.  Drunk super heroes on her doorstep at 2 am.  Even if he was built like a fucking Greek god. Not even an ugly one either.  No Hephaestus for her.  Nope.  Straight up Ares.  

But she didn’t give a shit about that if he cut into her sleep.

 _Well…maybe for certain things.  Definitely not drunk bullshit things, though.  Nice things…having nothing to do with rude awakenings._   

She unlocked all her many locks. Seriously, she had a ton.  Even if she did live in Avengers Tower, she was still alone in her apartment for crying out loud. 

She opened the door, blinking in the bright light of the hallway. 

“My _princeza…”_ he grinned like an idiot and held his hand out, “ _Tako si lepa…”_

“Pietro?” she asked. 

_What the fuck does ‘Taco Leper’ mean?  That first part was ‘Princess’._

_-Who cares what he’s saying? Is he gonna hurl?  He looks like he’s about to hurl.  Dammit. Hot drunk guy calls me his Taco Leopard Princess and hurls all over me._

“Maximoff? Man, are you gonna…?” she peered around the door frame to see Clint a few feet down the hall.  And she KNEW his ass was drunk. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Pietro’s very manly retch as the contents of his stomach wound up on her welcome mat. 

“Oh good grief…” she groaned as she knelt down beside him.  She patted his back as he ralphed all over the place.  “It’s okay…just…better out than in, I always say…even though…I’d rather the OUT wasn’t on my doormat…or anywhere near me…just for future reference…” 

“Sorry…” he rasped. 

“It’s…” she trailed off. 

_It’s what? Fine?  No.  Okay?  No._

“Gross but it happens…” she finished lamely. “Come on, dude.  Can you stand up?” 

“I was not going to do that…but…Clint…” 

“Mmmhmm, this has Clint’s name all over it.” She glared up the hallway at the decidedly unsneaky drunk assassin as he froze momentarily before slinking around the corner into the kitchen. 

“I wanted to tell you…” 

_No drunken confessions…please._

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Boris.  I highly doubt you want to say or do another stupid thing tonight.  You need to save something for later…which way to your sister’s apartment?” 

“I am fine.  You do not have to take me there…I can go back to my apartment…”

His accent was thicker when he was drunk.    

“Nope.  You shouldn’t be alone.  Believe me.  I’m an expert on this.  My college roommate was the queen of bad decisions…she had alcohol poisoning like…FOUR times. It’s good that you puked, but you might puke again.  And I’m fairly certain that Tony didn’t pay millions of dollars of your medical bills so you could die by choking on your own vomit…which way to Wanda’s?” 

He pointed sheepishly to their left and took a step, wobbling a little. 

She took his arm and draped it over her shoulder, slipping hers around his waist. She groaned internally.  This guy was cut.  Sculpted.  Fucking perfect. “C’mon, Speedy.  Vamos!”   

They came to a halt in front of Wanda’s apartment.  She was hesitant to knock.  Hopefully Wanda wouldn’t like…throw a fire ball at her or anything. 

She was about to knock when the door opened.  Wanda was in her pajamas, which were flannel.  And pink.  “What did he do?” she asked. 

_Fast and Weird.  I’ve met Fast.  This is Weird._

“Nothing…well…he puked on my welcome mat…” 

Wanda groaned, “I am sorry…I will make him clean it up…” 

“Naw, it’s fine…I hated that thing anyway…gave visitors the wrong idea…” Darcy laughed nervously. 

Wanda smiled faintly. 

“Here…I believe this is yours…”  Darcy nudged Pietro forward.

“Ugh…I do not really want to claim him right now…” she moved out of the way as he stumbled into her apartment and collapsed on the couch.  “Thank you for bringing him here…”

“Don’t mention it…he shouldn’t be alone…sorry to dump him on you, but…” 

“No, no…he is not your responsibility…” 

“Well…uh…have a good night.” 

“You too, Darcy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here](http://trueamericanrules.com/) are the rules to True American, if anyone's interested. True Avenger is the same, except, like Clint says, Wii Bowling instead of American History. 
> 
> Also...drunk Steve Rogers. Gives me life. I love him. 
> 
> Taco Leopard Princess. I wish I could draw. 
> 
> Comments would be amazing, as always. <3


	4. The Light Blue Pair with the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which...teh cuteness happens. 
> 
> I don't think I've mentioned this before now, but I've made an entire floor of Avengers Tower an apartment complex of sorts for the Avengers and friends. It's been my headcanon for so long, I sometimes forget to mention it. Anyway, that's the living situation, like a big common area and small apartments. 
> 
> Anywho...special thanks to [heyfrenchfreudiana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana) for beta reading this for me!
> 
> Baby Got Back, Jonathon Coulton. It must be this cover. MUST.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Princeza-Princess-Serbian  
> Ty Vole!- You idiot (ox)-Czech  
> Beruska-Ladybug (Czech term of endearment)  
> Supak-Asshole-Serbian

**Pietro**

He woke up to Wanda’s disapproving glare. 

Unfortunately, he woke up to Wanda’s disapproving glare many mornings, so that gave him no clue. 

“What?” he asked.

“What…” she echoed, shaking her head.  She stood up, walking around the coffee table.

“Was I not supposed to be here?  Did I interrupt something?” He glanced towards her bedroom door. He did not even know if her robot-man spent the night and he really did not WANT to know.  

“No…” she sighed, walking out to the kitchen. 

“I do not even remember how I got here…” 

“You don’t?”  She sounded skeptical.  Surprised even. “I will refresh your memory.  But first, some coffee.” 

She turned on the grinder and Pietro groaned, rolling to hide his aching head under the pillow.  He groaned louder as a new wave of pain radiated from behind his eyes. 

“Fuuuuccckkk…” he grumbled. 

 _So last night involved some of Thor’s Asgardian ale…_ he thought miserably to himself.  Even thinking hurt. 

After what seemed like too long, Wanda turned off the grinder and dumped the grounds into her coffee maker, hitting the cup on the side of the reserve harder than was necessary. 

He heard water running and cabinets opening and closing.  Loudly. 

She strolled out to the living room, nudging him with her knee. 

He peeked out to see her holding a glass of water. 

“Thank you…” 

She sniffed and sat down in the chair beside the couch. 

“You still do not know why you are here?” she asked. 

“I know I must have been drunk…” 

She snorted, “That is an understatement.” 

“That is all.” 

“Well, it seems you had the enlightened idea to go calling on your ‘ _Princeza’_ last night…” 

“What?  No…”  He hid his face again. 

“Yes.  And you vomited all over her welcome mat. At 2 am.” 

“Npfhh…” he pressed his face into the pillow, muffling his voice.

“That is most certainly NOT behavior befitting her Prince Charming, I am sure.”

“Wanda…” 

“And she brought you here to me, arm draped over her shoulder…” 

“Npfhh…”  

“And then you collapsed on my couch…I think that just about brings us up to date…”

He tried to burrow further under the cushion.   “Well…this has been fun…but I think I would like to try being shot again.” 

He yelped as Wanda pulled the pillow off his head and hit him repeatedly with it. 

“Do not joke about that!   _Ty vole!_ ” 

“Sorry, Sorry…. _Beruska_ , Sorry…” he reached out from his hiding place behind the pillow to squeeze her hand.  “Sorry.  You are right.  Not funny.” 

“Besides…I do not think you have completely blown it with her,” she sat back in the chair, looking fairly pleased with herself. 

“No?  What did she say?” 

She shook her head, “I have already said too much.” 

“Wanda…” 

“Pietro…” she patted his head gently.  “Go shower, you smell like booze and vomit.” 

He sniffed at himself, unable to tell what he smelled like.  

“After you shower, you are going shopping.” 

“No…” he groaned and let himself fall back on the couch.  “I am hung-over.” 

“You owe Darcy a new welcome mat. You ruined hers.” 

“I will have someone go get it for her…” 

“No.  YOU have to get it and deliver it to her.” 

“Why?  I honestly do not think anything is going to come of this.  Last night was the first I’d spoken to her since the party.  And I vomited.  I fail to see how that means I still have a chance.”

“Why would that deter you from replacing what you ruined? This has nothing to do with sex, Pietro.  This is the right thing to do!”

He sobered immediately, ceased his whining.  She was right.  He was being a…huge… _supak_ …a huge asshole. 

“You are right, Wanda.  I apologize…”

“Not to me.  To her.” 

“And you.  You should not have to deal with this bullshit. And neither should she.  Can I trouble you for a cup of coffee after my shower?”

She smiled faintly.  “Coffee I can do.  I am not congratulating you on doing the right thing. No matter how out of character it is for you.” 

“I know.  I have been a jerk lately. I get it.  I see it now.  I am done. I am through trying to force it.” 

He peeled himself up from the couch, accepting the glass of water she thrust at him.  He drank it quickly, feeling slightly better than before. Wanda then exchanged it for a pile of clean clothing she’d had on the counter.  His.

“How?” 

“Calm down.  I went by your place this morning.  Not sure if it is clean, but I folded it…”

“You take such good care of me,” he grinned. 

“Yes, now go…I am sick of looking at you.” 

He trudged to the bathroom, looking forward to the shower. 

Once finished, he changed and sulked out to the living room again.

“Where do I even BUY a welcome mat?” 

“A department store, Pietro.  Try to find an unfriendly one.” 

“An unfriendly department store?  Should not be that difficult…” 

“No…” she laughed, “An unfriendly welcome mat.”

“Doesn’t that go against the purpose?” 

“Yes.  Just trust me on this.  I know things.”  

“I do not even know if she is home right now…” 

“She will be by the time you finish…GO.” 

“FINE…rush me out of your apartment…”

He left, slamming the door behind him.  He cringed, the pain in his head still faint, but there.

* * *

 

**Darcy**

She had just dropped her bag on the counter and popped the top on her soda when there was a knock at the door. 

_Wow, I’m popular today…and by today, I mean the day that started at 2 am with a drunk man puking all over my now ruined door mat…_

She opened the door without looking to see who it was and was genuinely surprised to see a sheepish looking Pietro standing there with a bag from Crate & Barrel. 

“Hi?” 

“Hi…” he smiled crookedly, his face reddening. 

_Okay, well…that’s fucking adorable.  It should be illegal to be that cute._

“Are you here to puke on the carpet?  Before you do…let me show you around…” she backed out of the doorway and he followed, chuckling and looking down at his feet.  She wasn’t sure how to react to shy Pietro.  She didn’t know that such a thing existed. 

“I am…SO sorry about that…” he began. 

Apparently ralphing on her doormat brought out shy Pietro.  Good to know. 

“Don’t worry about it…I was telling your sister that I hated that mat anyway…gives visitors the wrong idea…you know…what with it saying ‘Welcome’ and all…” she laughed nervously and looked around the apartment, deciding that she should probably ask him to sit down.  “Wanna come sit down?”

On the couch that was covered in a pile of thankfully clean panties and bras. 

Still…panties and bras.  Her skimpy ones too…bikinis and ( _oh God…_ ) thongs. 

She grimaced and quickly walked over to the couch.  “Sorry…pile of…panties here…I’ll just…move them…” she cursed herself for using that word.  Not clothes, not laundry…PANTIES.  She might as well have had a neon sign pointing them out because now he was looking. 

Out of the corner of his eye.   Trying his damnedest to make it look like he didn’t notice the massive pile of silk and satin and ribbons and lace in every fucking color of the rainbow on her couch. 

But he was looking.  And probably imagining her in these and only these. 

“Need a hand with that?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow. 

Aaaaand it was her turn to blush. Not that she wasn’t before.  But before it had been gradual.  Maybe not noticeable?  Not this flushed, sweaty, nervous look she was sporting now. 

“Heh heh…no.  Thanks, though…” she quickly started gathering them up in a big pile, turning to walk back to her bedroom, dropping a pair here and there as she went.  She kicked those into corners and behind the couch before gesturing towards it invitingly. 

He smirked and sat down, leaning the bag against his leg. 

She sat down as well, as close to the arm as she could. 

“This…is for you…” he scooted the bag out towards her awkwardly.  “To replace the one I ruined…” 

“Oh…wow…you didn’t have to…” she pulled the mat out and grinned widely when she saw it. ‘Go Away’, scrawled in elegant script. “This is perf.  Thank you!  Better than the one I had.” 

“I am glad you like it.” 

She slipped it back in the bag and they sat there awkwardly for a few seconds before he stood and made like he was going to leave. 

He turned to walk towards the door and she spied them.  The frilliest, pinkest thong that she owned, static clung to his ass. 

_Fuck me._

She reached out and grabbed them, over shooting the goal a bit and firmly grasping a handful of his very taut posterior. 

He froze, she jammed the panties in her back pocket while she tried to think of a reason why she had just full-on grabbed his ass. (Which was nice, by the way). 

_I have three options:  I can tell the truth, I can lie my ass off, or I can have sex with him…_

_Lie my ass off it is._

He turned slowly, a quizzical look on his face.  “I am trying not to read too much into this, but…did you just grab my ass?” 

“I…did…” she admitted slowly. 

“Is it too much to ask why?” 

“I have an addiction…” she blurted. 

_An addiction to WHAT?  ASS?_

“An addiction?” he asked. 

“Yes…apparently…an addiction….I’m recovering…from alcoholism…I’m an alcoholic.  I could have just said that before, but…heh heh…I’m drunk as fuck right now…” she shrugged comically.  “So…” 

“You are drunk right now?” he asked in disbelief.  “It’s four pm.” 

“Happy Hour!” she punched the air. 

_Fuck you, Darcy Lewis.  You always fuck up my life._

He frowned, “I am…so sorry!  I had no idea that you had a drinking problem…”

_Pull it back.  Take it back.  The actual problem is less embarrassing than this._

“That’s because I don’t…” she laughed nervously.  “That was a lie…I uh…just didn’t want to tell you the real reason I grabbed your…rear end…” 

_Rear end.  Really?  What are you? Seventy? Granny doesn’t even say ‘rear end’.  She says badonkadonk.  Retirement goals.  God._

“WAS that…” she sheepishly pulled the panties from her back pocket.  “These were stuck to it…” 

His eyes widened.  “Oh…well, I am glad to hear you are not an alcoholic…and they are…very nice…”

She blushed an even darker shade if that was possible.  “I just didn’t want you to walk out with them and find them later, or worse, someone else see them and think that you…took them off me or something…I don’t know…” 

“Well…if I found them, I would have returned them after minimal inspection…” he grinned mischievously.  “And if someone else saw them, I am sure the whole matter could be explained away, given your slovenly housekeeping skills…”

“Geez, thanks…see if I invite you in ever again.” 

He chuckled, “I apologize.  I honestly have no room to talk…my apartment is worse…” 

“Right…so to recap…not an alcoholic…I have a LOT of panties…I need to invest in dryer sheets…good door mat. Thank you…and if you can see yourself out, I’m going to retire to my room where I can die of embarrassment ALONE like the good Lord intended…” 

“Well, I certainly hope not…I was…going to ask you to…coffee tomorrow? Perhaps you could…eh…put it off? Your death, I mean?” 

_Oh my god.  Yes.  Coffee.  Yes.  Anything._

_-Darcy Lewis.  I swear to fucking GOD…you cannot say yes to this._

“Okay…” she agreed.

_Fuck you.  You know what?  When he breaks your heart…don’t come crying to…yourself._

_-He’s cute.  It’s just coffee._

With the lies she told herself on a regular basis without blinking or otherwise letting on to the deception, she would have made a great politician. 

His face practically lit up when she said it, though.  And honestly, he was so fucking adorable.  She understood why so many girls lost it over him.  Who wouldn’t fucking live to make him look like that?   

“This doesn’t count as a date, though.  You still don’t know my last name.”

 _Half-assed attempt at controlling the situation._  

He smirked, “No, I guess I do not.” 

“Nope,” she agreed, popping the ‘p’. “So…any requests?” she held out the pink thong in front of her.  “I mean…you’ve seen my stash…” 

He coughed.  Sputtered.  Turned red again.  Fucking precious. 

_Slightly more than half-assed.  Three-quarters-assed._

”Black?  Red?  Pink?” he blurted.    

“So you know colors…how about I just surprise you?”

“I am sure you will…so…uh…tomorrow?  Eleven a.m.?”   

“Okay…” 

“Okay…I’m going to…go…unless you need…” he turned slightly, sticking out his ass towards her.  “One for the road, eh?” 

“Oh no, I’m set…” she grinned. 

“Just making sure…my ass is always available to sate your…addiction.” 

“Shut up and go before I change my mind…can you set this down on your way out?” she handed him her new mat.  “Try not to ralph all over it, okay?” 

“Fine, fine…” he ducked out the door with a wave, but poked his head back in, “Umm…just a suggestion, but…the light blue pair with the heart…” he winked and was gone, shutting the door softly behind him with a click. 

And she collapsed on her couch, simultaneously berating herself for being so damn predictable and him for being so damn cute. 

“This is going to fucking hurt…this is bad…” 

She was already getting attached. 

And getting attached to a man like him was a mistake.

 _Completely-broke-kicked-out-of-apartment-entirely-reliant-on-Jane-kind-of-mistake._  

One she’d never learn from, it seemed. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have channeled a little bit o' Tina Belcher at the end there...
> 
>  
> 
> If you think of it, leave me a comment! I LIVE for comments, you guys are great!!!!


	5. A Crescendo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, our pair ATTEMPTS their 'not-a-date'. 
> 
> I was hesitant to post this chapter, but, I really hope it's enjoyable. 
> 
> Nothing like a small maybe-not-really-near-death experience to bring two people closer together, right? 
> 
> Have I mentioned that this is tropey as hell? Because this is tropey as hell. 
> 
> Smooth Criminal, Alien Ant Farm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Thanks to [heyfrenchfreudiana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana) for beta reading this for me! 
> 
> Translations:  
> Some-Stupid Ass (Serbian)  
> glup si ko kurac-Stupid as a cock (Serbian)

**Darcy**

“Where is this place?  This ‘better-than-here’ coffee place?” he asked, bouncing a little as they exited the tower lobby onto the sidewalk. He was so antsy all the time.  Kind of like a nervous tic that she was noticing.  He didn’t like being still.     

“It’s a little ways away…about twelve blocks that way?” she gestured to their left.   

“That is not that far…” he turned and made to start walking. 

Like THAT was going to happen.  She knew how he rolled.  Really fast.  She could only imagine what he thought was a steady walking pace.  She’d be panting and sweating like a hog before they even got halfway there. Regardless of the fact that it was colder than a brass toilet on the shady side of an iceberg. 

If there was a golden rule about dating, it was to never let the guy see how out of shape you were on the first date.  Obviously by the third, so he’d know what to expect in the bedroom department.  But never on the first. 

And since this wasn’t even the first date, this was like…Date 0.5.  If their relationship was a book, this would be that page where the author dedicates the book to their best childhood friend or something. 

No way was she going to let fucking QUICKSILVER see her huffing and puffing her way down Park Avenue. 

“Let’s get a cab…” Darcy broke away from him to walk towards the curb.  She raised her hand to hail one.  Not like that would happen in the middle of November. She wasn’t showing NEARLY enough thigh to get a cab this quickly. 

“Cabs are gross.  They smell like sweaty feet,” Pietro protested.

“I figured you would be used to that smell…” she quipped, grinning back at him over her shoulder. 

“Haha.  My feet do NOT smell bad.  They smell like roses,” he teased. 

“Right.  I’m SURE they do…” she waved her hand frantically at a passing cab as it zoomed by.  “Damn…should have worn a skirt…we’d be ass deep in sweaty feet smell by now…” 

“Come on…let’s just walk.  We can talk?  It will be nice?” 

She wrinkled her nose.  “It’s too cold to walk. And we can talk just as easily in the back of a cab.” 

“If you are cold, you can always walk closer to me…” he offered, “I am told I am very warm.” 

It was tempting.  He smelled good.  Definitely not like the back of a sickening cab.  She’d admit, she’d smelled him in the elevator.  He smelled…REALLY good.  Something deep and spicy, that hit in the back of her nose, nothing but warmth at first, but then…sage and nutmeg and sandalwood. The sandalwood was probably some kind of shampoo or something, but it suited him.

So definitely tempting.

She’d like nothing more right now than to accept his invitation and tuck herself under his arm, let everyone walking near them know that she was with him somehow.  That lumpy oatmeal like her could somehow snag a beefcake of this magnitude.

Maybe she’d find his scent on her sweater later on. Sniff it deeply until it had meshed so well with hers that she couldn’t smell it anymore. 

But no.  That was creepy behavior. 

So instead, she eyed him smugly. 

“Not a date, Pietro…” she reminded him gently. "You can't date someone if you don't know their last name..." she added with a smirk.  Rectifying a few of the barriers that had fallen since yesterday.  Since his perfect doormat replacement and gentlemanly handling of the panties incident. 

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged and jammed his hands in his pockets.  “It is a beautiful day…” he continued, prodding her to agree to the walk. He cocked his head to the side and widened his eyes. 

So his puppy dog look was lethal.  How wonderful for him.      

She swung her purse over her shoulder and wrapped both arms around her waist, taking off in the direction of the coffee shop, grumbling, “It’s a beautiful day to get mugged, maybe…” 

“You will not get mugged, not with ME here.” 

He hadn’t even gotten the sentence out before a shady looking fellow walking towards them yanked her purse off her shoulder, nearly throwing her back with the force. 

She stumbled into his side, glaring up at him.  “You vill not get mugged, not vith ME here…” she mimicked his accent poorly. 

He sighed in annoyance, “I will be right back…” 

He turned and shot off like a jet after the guy.  A silver streak that stopped in front of the running thief, arm out to the side.  The man, who was looking over his shoulder, ran smack into his arm, falling down on his back on the sidewalk. 

Pietro reached down and grabbed the purse, straightening before nudging the crumpled form on the ground with his foot.  “That purse does not match your outfit, anyway. Looks much better on her.” 

He grinned triumphantly as he handed it back to Darcy. 

She watched in horror as the squirrelly little dude struggled to his feet, pulled a gun from the pocket of his jacket, pointing it first at Pietro, but thinking better of it and pointing it at her.

Squirrelly indeed.

This was one of those moments where talking, shrieking, screaming, hell…POINTING would be better than what she was doing.  Which was nothing. 

She was convinced that this was it.  She was going to get shot and die here on the sidewalk on a ‘not date’ with Quicksilver.  This was what happened when people were forced to be active when they didn’t want to be.  They got shot and died.  She was never going to exercise for no good reason ever again.  If they had gotten in the cab this wouldn’t have happened. 

If she was playing that game, if she had just slept with Pietro the first night she met him, she might not be here now, and if she was, at least her last sexual experience would have been in the past week, and not in the past six months.     

Her face must have been showing something, because Pietro became a blur again, coming back into focus as the man dropped the gun, howling in pain as his arm hung limply by his side and the other was up covering his nose that was suddenly gushing blood. 

Pietro kicked the gun away and remained in a defensive stance between her and the stupid ass who’d chosen today to try to mug a superhero and the woman walking with him.  “Keep that from him…” he directed at her.  His tone entirely different than the one he usually had.

This one was authoritative.  And it was fucking hot.  Like so hot that she wanted to wrap herself around him and kiss him until his head popped off. 

Except that they were kind of in the middle of a situation here.  A situation that had him placing his muscular, toned body between her and the gun-wielding Jesse Pinkman wannabe.  And that had her holding a gun, _A GUN_. 

 _I might have a problem.  First Ian, my limey intern, and now Pietro, my big hunk of Russian steel...do I have a Savior fetish or something?_  

“Fuck you, Ruskie…” the man spat, abandoning his most assuredly broken nose to cradle his arm. 

“Ruskie?  Take that back…I am NOT Russian…” Pietro rounded. 

_Sokovian steel.  Smooth Sokovian Steel.  Yeah, baby._

“Down boy.  You’ve done enough damage…” Darcy reached over to touch his shoulder softly.  “Let’s just leave him…he’s in a bad place…come on…” 

_Seriously, let’s go.  I want to rip into you so bad…_

“Fuck right I’m in a bad place, that fucking psycho attacked me!”

“Leave him? He pulled a gun on you! We need to call the police!”

His eyes flashed.  Goddamn him.  He was right. 

_Gun is NOT sexy, it’s terrifying.  Police are necessary.  Annoyingly necessary._

“Call them.  PLEASE…” the mugger idiot continued, “I’m going to file charges against YOU, Comrade.”   

“Comrade?  Fuck you, Buddy,” Pietro spat. 

Sirens were sounding in the distance.

Darcy looked around for the first time, noting the crowd that had formed around them, several of them with phones pressed to their ears, the cops were already on the way.  She looked down at the gun in her hands, a revolver. Her dad actually had one like this.  One of the perks of growing up in Texas.

She opened the chamber, intending to empty it.  Except…there were no bullets. 

“It’s not even loaded,” she scoffed, dangling it from her finger.

Pietro glanced back at her, “REALLY?” He turned back to the thief, shaking his head.  “ _Some… glup si ko kurac...”_

She’d have to ask him what the hell that meant later.  Couldn’t be good, though. 

She closed the chamber again and noticed everyone starting to breathe a little easier. She placed the gun on the ground again, resting her foot on it so she could get at her phone.

She dialed Tony’s number quickly. 

“Tony’s Mule Farm, head ass speaking…” 

“Heeeeyyyy there, Tony…” 

Pietro turned abruptly to look at her quizzically, “Don’t call HIM.” 

She shushed him.  “Tony, we need you...there was a situation with a mugger…” 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine, Pietro’s fine…” 

“PIETRO’s with you?” 

She ignored that, “The mugger has a broken nose.  And a dislocated shoulder…and the police are coming and I’m just thinking we might need you here…we’re at Park and—“ 

“Friday’s already sent me the coordinates.  Be there in a few.” 

The line disconnected. 

“Why’d you call Stark?” he hissed.

“Because.  The cops are already coming, and WE didn’t call them…we need some backup.” 

_You beautiful bad boy, you._

_-I have a problem._

_And that problem is a six-foot-tall gorgeous specimen who put himself between a gun and me. He didn’t know there were no bullets._

_-Definite problem.  Lois Lane syndrome or whatever. You know barely ANYTHING about this guy._

“And as much as you hate Tony, he’s got pull around here…” she finished.

As if on cue, two cop cars pulled up, four officers piling out and busting through the crowd. 

“What seems to be the trouble here?” One of them asked. 

“He tried to steal her purse…” Pietro gestured towards the bloody mess of a man in front of them. 

“That true, ma’am?” 

Darcy nodded. 

They looked at the thief, who crumbled under pressure.  “Yeah, it’s true.  But then that guy assaulted me.  Look at me…he dislocated my shoulder.” 

“He pulled a gun on us,” Darcy blurted, gesturing to the gun under her shoe. 

“It wasn’t loaded!” he protested. 

Pietro made a little snorting sound, crossing his arms in front of him and stepping a little closer to Darcy.

“Okay, I’m going to need to see some I.D…” 

Pietro’s face went white, he looked over at Darcy, whispering as he pulled out his wallet.  “My ID is on my dresser.”

Her eyes went wide. “Why isn’t it with you?” 

“I didn’t think I’d need it…” 

She made a big show of looking for her ID before showing it to the cops, who wrote down her name on the clipboard in front of them. 

“Darcy?” One of the officers exclaimed. 

She turned towards the voice to see a familiar face grinning back at her.  “Will?”

“How have you been?” 

_Police officer.  We went on five dates…he really liked me, I didn’t like his cat._

“Been great, had a gun pointed at me…but ya know…” she shrugged, glancing over her shoulder to check on Pietro. 

“Darcy?”  One of the other officers looked at her.  “Not THE Darcy? Squad car Darcy?” he asked Will.

 _SQUAD CAR! That’s right…we fucked in his squad car…oh wow, my thighs hurt just THINKING about that…_  

“Oh good.  I have a reputation…” she laughed nervously, looking over at Pietro whose face was still blank, thankfully not paying attention. 

_Thank god.  I really don’t want to explain THAT nickname…_

There was a loud whirring as Tony, in full Iron Man regalia, lowered himself down into the police perimeter.  He flipped up his visor, surveying the scene.  “Damn, Darcy…did you taze this one too?” 

“Nope…that’s Pietro’s handy work…”

Her taser was still in her purse. She was more heavily armed than this joker in front of them.

“Noice.  So, I see New York’s finest are here…I’m sure everything’s cleared up, guys?” 

“Not yet, Mr. Stark…we don’t have an ID for Mr…” Will trailed off as he gestured towards Pietro, who was looking less than thrilled to be rescued by Tony Stark. 

“Maximoff.  Pietro Maximoff,” Tony filled in.  “I’ll send you all the information you need.  He’s an Avenger.” 

“We still need Mr. Maximoff and Ms.—“

“You can come interview them later at the tower.  No need to make this messier than it already is…” he glanced over at the sniveling mugger.  “I’m sure the traffic cams I helped pay for caught all the action.” 

“No it didn’t…he’s a fucking freak!” spat the mugger.  “Zipping around all…FAST and shit.” 

“Dude, shut up,” Darcy retorted, “You’re the freak.  You’re the one trying to steal my purse. And threaten us with an unloaded gun?  Who the fuck are you?  Elmer Fudd?”

“Elmer Fudd had ammunition,” Tony interjected.  “It was that blasted wabbit’s fault…” 

“Alright, alright…we have to get some eye witness accounts first…” One of the other officers conceded.  “Let them go, we’ll be in touch.  Make sure they stay home until they speak to us…and get that guy in cuffs,” he nodded towards the mugger. 

“Go on, guys…” Tony looked pointedly at them.  Darcy knew that look.  That was the ‘get-the-fuck-out-while-you-still-can’ look.  She grabbed Pietro’s arm and took off at a brisk walk back towards the tower.  They weren’t that far from it, one or two blocks in the opposite direction that they’d been walking in. 

“So…” he said as they walked, her hand still tucked into his elbow.  He was right.  He WAS warm. 

“So?” 

“You know why they call me ‘Quicksilver’…why do they call you ‘Squad Car Darcy’?” 

She snorted, “I was hoping you didn’t hear that…”  

He grinned, “I heard it.”

“Well…that is a story you will NOT be hearing today…” 

“Aww…” he pouted, “Please?” 

“Eventually…MAYBE…not today.” 

“Fine, fine...” He paused, “So when were you going to tell me that you used to date the NYPD?” 

She laughed, “Hey now.  You have no room to talk.” 

“I think if I dated the NYPD, we’d be having a very different conversation right now…” he teased. 

“You KNOW what I mean.” 

“I do.  I know what you mean.  And I would never DREAM of…subjecting you to a double standard…” 

“How very forward thinking of you.” 

He shrugged, “I guess…I just…eh…I am kind of…worried I am going to say the wrong thing here…this whole day has felt like a nightmare…and I really like you…so…eh…” 

“I like you too,” she added…throwing that in there.  Because it was the truth.  And he sounded like he might need the reassurance.

He stopped talking, was silent for a moment as they approached the tower. 

“Sorry about that…today…” he looked remorseful.  Even though it wasn’t his fault at all. 

“Sorry about what?  SAVING me from a moron?” 

“Well, just sorry that our…um…afternoon got ruined…now we have to go home and wait and…” he trailed off.  He sounded really disappointed.  “I hope you are...okay…?” 

_That is a loaded question, partner._

“We can still get coffee here…” she suggested, steering him towards the coffee shop just off the lobby and deftly to another topic of conversation.  “I didn’t mean before that I didn’t like the coffee from here, it’s just that I have it every day…I like that other place for a change.” 

He pushed the door open for her, zipping around to open the other for her too.  She grinned up at him.

“I’m going to get a table,” she informed him. 

“What do you want? My treat.” 

“I should hope so…since you ruined my afternoon…” 

He mock glared down at her.  “What do you want, smart ass?” 

 _You…_ she thought to herself. 

“Just tell them it’s for Darcy Lewis,” she said.  “They know what I like.” 

“Oh, okay—“he shrugged, walking over to stand in line. 

She wondered how long it would be before he realized what she’d just said.  Or IF he would.

He bounced on his toes a few times before freezing suddenly.  He looked back and she caught his gaze.  He grinned widely and blushed, looking back up at the menu. 

When he brought her medium caramel macchiato with extra caramel and extra whipped cream over to the table, he slid it over in front of her, “Here you go, Ms. Lewis.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Thank YOU.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww....yes? I hope? 
> 
> If you agree, leave me a comment! I love those things.


	6. All Hail the Sweater Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pietro and Darcy finally go on their first official date. 
> 
> I have included quite a few of my own Darcy Lewis headcanons here...simply because we don't know that much about her canonically. I don't figure I have to apologize for that, but...you never know. So...yeah. 
> 
> And just so you know...if you didn't already...Quicksilver's middle name ACTUALLY is Django!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harlem by New Politics. (I just feel like that's their song, idk). 
> 
> Many thanks to [heyfrenchfreudiana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana) for beta reading this for me...TWICE. She's awesome.

**Pietro**

He couldn’t focus.  It happened sometimes.  Okay, a lot of the time.

Not usually this bad, though. 

But he really wanted to focus, so this was even worse than usual. 

And Darcy was noticing it too.  He could tell every time he glanced over at her face.  Her speech would slow and her eyes would narrow, sometimes she would sigh and abandon the topic she was discussing. 

And he hated it, but he could not find a damn thing to anchor him. 

There were too many people in here for one.  He was flattered that she had brought him here to the coffee shop she never brought anyone to.  But, there were too many people talking, laughing. 

It was warm. Too warm.  His back was sweating where it was pressed to the back of the sofa.

The espresso machine hissed and the barista rang a bell.  It was all so fucking loud.  He usually liked noise, but this was too much.  It was too much. 

Her hand appeared on his arm. Her skin felt cool, soothing.  She tightened her grip slightly.  “Piet…you okay?” 

Grounded for a second, she was literally holding him down.  He felt like one of those balloons in the Thanksgiving Day parade they’d just watched over the past weekend.  Lots of ropes and people holding it down, but its very nature was to fly away. 

“Fine…” he managed, trying not to move for fear of becoming some weird blur in the corner of her eye. 

She released him and the floaty feeling got worse.  

He felt trapped.  And alone.  Just like in that cell on that Hydra base.  Back when they wouldn’t even let him see Wanda.  All alone, but with so many people around. 

“Is it…me?  Am I…” 

“NO.  No…Darcy, I am sorry…I just…I can’t…”  He gripped at the sides of his pants to stop his arms from moving, but that just made his whole body start to vibrate.  He needed to move, go somewhere.  This was… 

And then her hands were on his face, cupping his cheeks and her lips…her lips…

He felt all the tension leave his upper body.  He reached up to clasp at her forearms, moving his lips against hers.  Everything slowed down, he could pick out conversations, smells, sounds.  The hissing of the espresso machine wasn’t so very loud, and the annoying guy at the table beside them wasn’t nearly so annoying, and he felt his pulse slow down as he inhaled her scent. 

She ended the kiss, and sat back slightly, running her fingers through his hair.  “Did that help or make it worse?” 

“It helped.  It really helped.  Not what I imagined for our first kiss, but…” 

“Well, that’s just too bad ain’t it?” she simpered.    

He leaned forward, pecking her lips again, humming.  “Not really…”

It wasn’t what he imagined at all. He had actually (for once) planned something.  He’d wanted to kiss her outside, where it was so cold, they could see their breath in front of their faces…he’d wanted to pull her close against him, feel her arms around his neck, her hands in his hair…

But…this was nice too.  Really nice.  Good. 

And it could be rectified later, when he was feeling more himself.

Of course, it had happened relatively soon in the date, and now all he could think about was the way her lips felt.     

“So…you wanna blow this joint?” she cocked her head towards the door.  “We can go for a walk…maybe in the park?  I mean…if you can do walks…you know…I think I’d need some hard core training that should have started about a decade ago if I ever want to keep up with you.” 

“We can stay, I am better now.” 

He was.  Everything was moving at the speed it was supposed to.  Not crawling past him.  The heat wasn’t oppressive, and most importantly, he could focus on her.

“You sure?  I’m fine with going for a walk.  I could stand to be more active.” 

“And I could stand to be still.” 

“I don’t want this to be a punishment for you…” she mumbled, wringing her hands slightly in her lap. 

He took one in his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, “It isn’t.  I can slow down for you.” 

She pulled her hand free, blushing and failing to hide a grin, “Well if that isn’t fucking poetry coming from you…” 

“If it is poetry you want…you are going to have to give me a few days to memorize some.” 

She opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but instead took her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head slightly.  “We’ll stay if you can tell me one thing I mentioned in the past half hour.” 

He raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Well…get comfortable, Darcy Katherine Lewis, because we are going to be here for a long time…”

She brought her legs up onto the couch with her, folding them under her.  “My middle name WOULD be the thing you remember…” she rolled her eyes.  “Tell me yours.”

“I am NOT telling you,” he smirked and sat back on the couch. 

“Come ON.  I told you mine. Tit for tat.” 

“’Katherine’ is not an embarrassing middle name.” 

“Well, no.  It was my mother’s name.” 

The way she said that…A little brightness, a little sadness.  The slight pause before ‘was’.  

It reminded him of Wanda.  And of himself.    

“Mine was my father’s,” he continued. 

“See?  Not embarrassing. Parent names are so cool.  Especially when it’s middle names.  It’s like…’I want to name you after myself, but I also want you to have your own identity’.  Cool parenting move.”

“This name is STILL embarrassing,” he maintained. “It was NOT a cool parenting move.  I would like to think my father laughed long and hard after he gave me this name. ‘Haha, son…I give you my good looks, my charisma, and my horrible name to make all the ladies giggle.’” 

“Tell me, Piet.  I won’t laugh. Much. Unless it’s like…Eugene or something. Muriel.” 

He chuckled, not really wanting to admit how much he liked the nickname she’d bestowed upon him.

When Stark called him ‘Pete’ it annoyed him…because it sounded like the wrong name coming from him.  P-E-T-E. 

But when Darcy said it, it sounded fluid…right somehow.  She probably spelled it correctly too.  P-I-E-T.

She extended one leg and poked him with it, jostling his knee.  “You okay?  Need me to kiss you again?” she asked mischievously.

He grabbed her foot and wiggled it, “No.  Not yet.” 

“Okay…just checkin’.  I mean…seriously, whenever you need it…I’ll make that sacrifice…I mean someone’s gotta do it.”

“Well…you know…next time you could just…reach around and grab my ass.  Kill two birds with one stone, eh? A kiss for me to…calm me down, ass grab for you for your…addiction.  Something for everyone.”

She swatted at him playfully, “Okay, okay…back on topic…middle name me, bro.”      

“Fine…get ready…” he paused, looking over to lock his gaze with hers.  “Django.” 

“Django??? Are you serious?” 

_Here it comes…the laughing._

“Yes,” he sighed, “Django.” 

“That’s…fucking AWESOME!” 

“Is it?” 

“YES.  Your dad’s name was Django?” 

“Yes…” 

“So people would come to your house, looking for Django, and your dad would be like, ‘That’s me.  I’m Django. Django at your service.’?” 

“Not exactly like that…” he shrugged.  “It was a small town…everyone already knew him.” 

“Even better,” she grinned.  “What did he do that everyone knew him?” 

“He was an engineer, he worked on the…eh…mining equipment,” he said, the words rolling far easier than they ever had. And she seemed genuinely interested. 

“What kind of mining?  Uranium?  I think I might have heard Dr. B talking about that once or twice.” 

“Yes.  Uranium…”  

“What about your mom? What did she do?” 

“She stayed at home.  Papa made enough for us to live off of…” he trailed off.

The room started shrinking again.  Closing in around him.  He inhaled sharply and her hand was immediately on his, squeezing tightly.  He laced their fingers, focusing in on her.  Only her. 

She was like a balm, soothing his nerves.    

“How old were you?” she asked quietly.

_When they died…_ he finished for her in his head.

“Ten…” 

She nodded, “Not really the same, but…I lost my mom when I was fifteen.  She had uh…cancer.  Breast cancer.  She found it when I was nine, but it took six years to take her down…” she pressed her lips together, shaking her head. “Not the same. I had notice,” she said dismissively.  “Sorry…”

He let his thumb stroke her hand.

“Do not be sorry…Loss is not…measurable.” 

She ran her fingers along the corners of her eyes and wiped them on her lap.  “So…Django…is a really cool middle name.” Which effectively changed the subject. Darcy was the human equivalent of whiplash.   

“Yes…eh…I suppose it is…”

“I really like it. It’s so different.”

“I just wish they had picked something that…went a little better with my first name…PietrO DjangO…does not exactly roll off the tongue. They do not…eh…match.”

“Well…names that MATCH are not all they are cracked up to be…I mean…my brother and I have matching names…”

“Oh, you have a brother?  Older or younger?” 

“Older…barely…by twenty minutes.” 

He grinned, “You are a twin?!” 

“No. Different moms.  My family is polygamous,” she replied dryly.  Or at least he thought it was dry. 

  _She’s not serious.  Unless she is.  Was this something she already mentioned?_

“I’m kidding, Pietro.  Yes, I’m a twin.” 

He let out the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.  “To each his own, but…” 

“No, I’m a twin…” she grinned. 

“Well…why didn’t you say something before?  I mean…I do not know if you realized, but I am ALSO a twin…” 

“Are you really? I had no idea,” she quipped. 

“Weelllll, that is something we have…in common. It seems like it should have come up…before now.”

“Weelllll…” she imitated his tone, “You never asked me if I was a twin.” 

“Why would I ever do that? Do you think people go around asking that question?” 

She shrugged, “Why would I OFFER that information? It’s not something I lead with…and for all I knew, if I HAD led with it, you would have simply turned into another way to ‘hit on’ me.  ‘Oh, baby, are you and your twin IDENTICAL?  Which one’s the pretty one, you or her?  Do you guys ever…get freaky together?’” 

He grimaced, “Why would I have said that?” 

“Dude. I speak from experience. If a woman mentions she has a twin, those are the top responses.  I usually just omit it from pretty much everything.”

“But your twin is a brother.”

“Yes. But to the male masses, it’s much sexier for a female to have an identical twin.  So those are the only ones that exist.” 

“So you fully expect that kind of treatment? Oy.  American men are simply deplorable.” 

“Right.  I’m sure when you saw me sitting at that bar, your first thought was…’Oh…vat a beautiful voman. She looks smart and intelligent.  I think I’ll go sit down and…ehh…get to know her....’” 

“Your impression is uncanny, by the way…” he teased. 

“Your eyes were on my boobs the entire time.” 

“For that, I apologize.  My behavior was…inexcusable.” 

“Apology accepted…” she squinted over at him.  “Your eyes HAVE been on my face the whole afternoon. I mean…when you are looking at ME and not at everything else in the room… I even wore my eye-popping-cleavage-sweater to test your resolve…you’ve passed so far.” 

“In the interest of being honest, my eyes have not ALWAYS been on your face…”

Because he HAD noticed said sweater and every time he looked, he silently thanked the sweater gods that forged its existence.

“Well, you’re only human.” 

He turned slightly on the sofa, so he was facing her. “So you said you and your brother have matching names?” 

She giggled, “Yeah, I did say that…”

“What’s his name?” 

“Bennet...we call him Ben.” 

“Bennet…and Darcy?” he frowned, not really seeing the similarities. 

“And…we have a family pug named Bingley…” 

He shook his head, “I…do not get it…” 

“Those are the last names of all the main characters in Pride and Prejudice…” 

“Ahhh…Jane Austen!” 

“Yeah!  You read it?” 

“No.” He smirked, “Look at me.  Do I look like I read Jane Austen?” 

“Wanda read it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yeah…my mom was an English teacher…kind of obsessed with her. Jane Austen…not Wanda.” 

“That is…cute?” 

“It’s really not.” 

“Well…I like your name.  It suits you.” 

“Likewise.” 

He looked cautiously around the room, almost afraid it was going to close in and swallow him up.  He gulped soundlessly and turned back to her.

“So tell me about…’Squad Car Darcy’?” 

“Oh god…you remembered that?” 

“Of course I remember,” he waggled his eyebrows. 

She groaned, “Okay…okay…you deserve to know SOMETHING about my…colorful past, I SUPPOSE, since yours is public knowledge.” 

He sat back and folded his hands. 

“Well…I was dating this guy…Will Booker.  He was one of the officers on the scene the other day…” 

_Yes, I remember VIVIDLY._

“The tall black guy.” 

“Yes…the tall black guy…well, anyway…I dated him for a while.  First and second dates were great, and the third date, I of course…asked him to take me out in the squad car.  Which, I don’t think he was REALLY supposed to do, but…he did.” 

He smiled faintly, nodding.  He could definitely understand giving her anything she asked for.  He wanted to do it, except she hadn’t asked for anything yet. 

“So…we’re driving around and I just decided to go for it, right? I reach over to…uh…” she coughed, “Drive the stick…and he immediately pulls over in this alley…”  She shifted in her seat turning more towards him, “I’m wearing a skirt because…reasons…so within a few minutes, we are going.  Like…not sure where we’re headed, but we’re going.  And it’s…kind of good because it’s semi-public…” 

He nodded.

“Except it’s NOT semi-public.  It’s completely public, and there is this fucking drug deal going down in the alley, 6 feet in front of us.  And here I am, riding Officer Booker’s dick, while my boob’s in his mouth and he had to push me off him, tuck back in, call for backup and go bust a drug deal.  And none of the guys resisted because they couldn’t stop laughing at the guy who stops banging a chick in the middle of it to bust drug dealers.” 

He chuckled, “Wow…that sounds…unfortunate for everyone involved.”

“Eh…it’s alright.  He took me back to his place afterwards and did it properly.  Didn’t stop me from getting a nickname, though…” she grinned. 

“So why aren’t you still with Officer Booker?” 

“Well…that is MOSTLY because of his cat.”

“Allergies?” 

“No.  That fucking cat was evil.” 

He made a face. 

“You don’t know!  You weren’t there!” 

He shrugged, “What did it do?  Scratch you?” He reached down for his iced coffee, taking a sip of it.

“No.  WORSE.  It used to shit on all my stuff.” 

He snorted, which hurt, because of the coffee.  “What?” 

“It shit on everything I touched.  I showered over there ONCE, and it shit on my clothes that I left on the top of the toilet. It shit on the towel I used.  Pulled it off the rack and shit on it. Will never did anything about it, he usually just laughed. Which was fucking obnoxious.  And the grand finale…it shit in my purse before we went out to dinner.” 

“Oh gross…” he grimaced.

“Yes.  Gross. Exactly.  I had my purse on the kitchen counter, I went to the bathroom, I came back, grabbed my purse, we left.  During the whole ride, I’m…sniffing…because I can smell it, you know?  But I can’t quite place where it’s coming from.  We check our shoes, nothing…okay…fast forward, we’ve eaten our salad, my phone rings.  I reach into my bag to turn it off and come out with a HANDFUL of cat shit.  He starts laughing, tells me to get over it.  So I wiped it on his jacket lapel and walked out.” 

“Wow.  That seems…”

“Completely justified?” she filled in, giving him a look, “Of course it does.  His cat shit on my stuff and he laughed about it.  I understand that the cat can’t go, but I couldn’t live like that.  Especially since he didn’t seem to find any problem with that behavior…besides…he came out after me, but we mutually decided it wasn’t going to work out. I wasn’t going to ask him to get rid of the cat, and I definitely wasn’t going to wait around for it to die before we moved on with our relationship…” 

“Well…” he began, not sure what to do with that story, because it was wild from start to finish.  “I can assure you that I do not have any animals that will shit on your things…” 

She smiled warmly, hugging her knees.  “So…what do you like to do for fun?”

Whiplash. Every time he tried to say something halfway serious.  Noted.

_What DO I do for fun?_

He was never good at answering this question.  Mostly because he did not know.  He had played football as a child, but that had stopped when his parents died. Then came the orphanage, where he’d pretty much spent most of his time beating up the kids who had threatened Wanda or himself.  And then…Hydra…

“Oh…um…I like…running.” 

“Derp. I already knew that.  Something else.  I’m trying to get to know you, in case you’re wondering.  This is what people do on dates, darling.” 

“I like…going to clubs. Dance…clubs…”

“You like dancing?” 

He made a face, “Not particularly…I just like going to them.” 

She pursed her lips and nodded.  “I don’t, but I’m a female who doesn’t like being groped by strangers, so that explains that…what do you like about them?”

“Not the people so much…I like the noise and the lights and how something is always happening…I do not like sitting still…” 

“Call me perceptive, but I had noticed something like that…” she smiled crookedly.  “Can I tempt you with a walk now?”

“No…I’m fine.  I’m really fine.” 

She drained her tea in one gulp, taking his mug from him.  “Come on.  I’d like to go for a walk.”

“No, I want to stay here…” Memories from a few days before rose to the surface.  Of that man pointing a gun at her, of the pure, unadulterated fear in her eyes before he had incapacitated the mugger.  Idiot though he was, that man had still been a threat, at least momentarily and he didn’t want to see that look in her eyes ever again.

“You don’t have to do something you hate just because I like it.  We can find middle ground.  And I could stand to be more active.” 

“No…” he refused to budge when she tugged on his arm, he tugged back just as firmly. 

“Pietro…” she let him pull her back down on the sofa beside him.  Closer than before, though. He laced their fingers. Her thigh was touching his.  That didn’t go unnoticed by either of them, judging by the way her breath caught and how she stared down at her hand in his like it was some kind of foreign concept.

It WAS foreign in a way, because it was out of order. They had already kissed, and then held hands, but this physical closeness was new. 

“We did what I wanted last time and it was not a good decision…” he said quietly, squeezing her hand tightly, reveling in the feel of her fingers clasping his just as tightly. 

She raised her eyebrows.  “Right.  One mugger in New York and we need to stop leaving our apartments…if I’d let that stop me, I’d have never ended up where I am today…” she shrugged.  “People get mugged all the time. It wasn’t even my first rodeo…I have a taser for a reason, Bro.” 

“Not just to attack royalty from other realms?” he joked half-heartedly. 

“Nope.  It’s saved my life a few times.  But, enough about that. Let’s go for a walk, because you are bouncing your legs so much that it’s making ME antsy…Or maybe it’s vibrating the couch in just the right place, who knows?” she winked and stood again. 

He allowed himself to be pulled to a standing position, most likely due to the confusing nature of her previous statement.  And the fact that her hand was still in his.

She left their cups up on the counter with a five dollar bill.  He was slightly miffed because he had included a tip when he’d paid for their drinks, but he didn’t say anything about it. She still hadn’t dropped his hand and it was making him a little more easy-going than he normally would be. 

In fact, the only thing he wanted to do was to grin like an idiot and point it out to everyone around them. 

_Look here, all of you.  She is holding my hand.  Darcy Lewis is holding my hand. She is with ME._

“If it was vibrating you in the right place, why would you want to move?” he grinned, taking the bait with ease as he held the door open for her.

“Maybe I don’t want our first…sexy time activity to take place in public…and on accident,” she replied haughtily.  “Call me old fashioned, but I’d like you to know you’re getting me off.” 

“Same…” he conceded, still beaming.  “Sexy time activity?” 

She rolled her eyes, tugging him along behind her.  “Would you rather I call it fucking?” 

He coughed. He couldn’t say truthfully that he hadn’t thought about it.  A lot.  Every single day since he met her.  Sometimes multiple times a day.  Sometimes…usually in the shower. 

“Or are you a hopeless romantic?  You don’t really strike me as a romantic, but if you want, I can call it ‘making love’.  Although, by the looks of you, you’ve never made love in your life.” 

_?!_

“That is a lie.  You know I have,” he said defensively.

“You’ve had sex.  FUCKED, I’d wager.  I don’t think you’ve made love.” 

“Have YOU?” he scoffed. 

“Maybe.  Once or twice…” She looked down at the sidewalk then.  And he wanted to apologize.  For what, he didn’t know.  But he felt like he owed it to her. He was about to, but then she changed the subject.  “So, where are we going?” she shivered and pulled her hat out of her purse, tugging it down over her ears. “It’s cold as a witch’s tit out here.” 

“We could go see a film…at the cinema…” he offered.

The cinema was another of his favorite places…loud films, bright flashing lights, relative darkness.    

“That’s no way to get to know someone.  You go to the movies when you want a different place to make out.  Or when you have nothing to talk about anymore…Movies are for teenagers and married couples.” 

“I disagree…I have taken girls to the movies and we had fun.” 

“Teenagers, married couples and people who aren’t ever going to see each other again,” she acquiesced, letting go of his hand only to slip her arm around his waist.  She fit perfectly against him and he could smell her shampoo and whatever perfume she used.  “And I’d like to see you again, Pietro.” 

“I’d like to see you again too…” 

 They stopped at a crosswalk, waiting to cross the street.

She was still shivering, though.  He could feel her entire body shaking with cold.  Hear her teeth chattering. 

“Are you cold?” 

“No.  I’m doing interpretive dance.” 

“You are cold,” he confirmed, pulling her closer.  She looked up at him, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted.  “Can I…Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly.  

She nodded, closing her eyes as he dipped down to capture her lips, her arm tightened around his waist and he felt her body bow into him slightly. 

“MOVE IT…” barked someone behind them.

Pietro glared behind them as they started walking, crossing the street quickly.  She giggled and shook her head, tugging him along. 

Once they had crossed, he pulled her over to the side, up against a building.  He hauled her light frame closer to him, his lips pressing firmly against hers before parting slightly and devouring her. She tasted faintly of cinnamon and tea, her mouth was hot…wet… Her teeth closed around his bottom lip, earning her a grunt of approval.  Her arms found their way around his neck, hanging on tightly as he moved his mouth against hers.  Her body pressed completely against his, he felt every contour, every dip.  The way her stomach muscles shook when he worked his thumb under her sweater to tease the bare skin just there at her waist. How her hips jutted against his own. The way her chest heaved against him, and the way her hand snaked its way into his hair.  He felt ALL of it. ALL at once.  And it was…a rush, to say the least.

She inhaled deeply and hummed as she pulled back slowly, her eyes taking a little longer to flutter open.

“Wow.” 

“That…” he whispered, nipping softly at her bottom lip, “was how I imagined our first kiss.”

She grinned, shaking her head.  “That was good.  VERY GOOD.” 

“Just good?” he chided. 

“Leaving you room for improvement.” 

He scoffed, “Improvement?  That kiss was sensational. Don’t think I did not feel your…knees trembling.” 

She chortled, turning to pull him south towards 53rd Street.  “Wow.  A good kisser AND so modest too…you really are the whole package.” 

“Good kisser…” he grumbled.  “I’m a great kisser.” 

“I think you’ve got potential…”

“YOU have potential...to be a pain in my ass.” 

“I already AM a pain in your ass…and you like it, so don’t sit there and pretend you don’t.  You deserve someone like me.  You were on the verge of being spoiled by those Twinkies of yours.” 

“Twinkies?” he asked, unsure if she meant the snack food or if it was some kind of metaphor.

“Yeah, blonde, artificial with no discernable expiration date?” 

He snorted, “Right.  Judge me for that when you have your…DING DONGS.” 

She laughed aloud, linking her arm with his.  “No judgement here.  And those Ding Dongs were REALLY fun.  As I’m sure your Twinkies were.”

He shrugged noncommittally. 

“They WERE, admit it…BUT…I think there comes a time in everyone’s life when you have to start eating something with substance.  You know…something that will keep you full for longer?” 

There were a MILLION tasteless jokes floating around in his head now. 

_I could keep YOU full for longer._

 “Where are we going?” he asked, taking a page from her book and changing the subject.  Not that he was uncomfortable with it, but he had seen her shy away from this topic before.

“MoMA?” she answered.  “Museum of Modern Art,” she clarified when he frowned. 

“Why?” 

“It’s indoors.  It’s quiet.  It’s warm.  And there’s art.” 

“Okay.” 

“It also costs 25 bucks a ticket.  I’ve got bread if you don’t.” 

“I have money,” he said defensively.  “I have money and practically nothing to spend it on.  Bring on the MoMA.”

 

 

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should apologize for those kisses. 
> 
> Also, it's kind of always been my headcanon that Darcy has a twin brother named Bennet...I didn't just do the twins thing b/c of Pietro. But, it's cute, right? *shrugs* I think it is. I'm sure I'm not the first to do that. Nor will I be the last. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed their date, though...:D Leave me a comment if you feel like it. :) I <3 them.


	7. Deserving of a Standing Ovation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright. Here be the smut I promised. At the end of this Super-Sized chapter. 6000 words...jeez. They wanted it bad.
> 
> Thank you to [heyfrenchfreudiana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana) for beta reading this for me. Several versions before I decided on this one. She was a real trooper y'all. She read all the bad smut so you wouldn't have to. 
> 
> And I couldn't deliver smut without SOME feels. So there's some mention of Darcy's ex here at the beginning during her talk with Jane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hella Good, No Doubt.  
> Suck My Kiss, Red Hot Chili Peppers. 
> 
> Translations:  
> Princeza- Princess  
> Lutko-Doll  
> 

**Darcy**

Pietro zipped over to the door of the lab, a green and silver blur, stopping to wave goodbye as he left. 

She felt herself smiling long after he’d gone. 

He had that effect on her. 

She’d go into each and every encounter on guard and he’d do something…usually something PERFECT, and he’d have all those walls down and crumbling around her before she knew what hit her. 

Today, it had been simple.  He’d tucked her hair behind her ear.  She was a fucking SUCKER for that shit. 

What a bastard.

She’d even steadied herself.  Talked herself out of whatever feelings she might have felt budding in the recent weeks. 

Or thought she had, anyway. 

Apparently, she didn’t do a very good job, because here she was, sitting her at her desk, staring moon-eyed at a Snickers bar that he’d brought her. 

He was always bringing her stuff.  Snickers.  Coffee.  Bottles of water.  Lunch.

She’d casually mentioned on their second date that she liked Doctor Who.   And there, on her desk the next morning, sat a little stuffed Dalek with a card that simply said, “P” with a little heart. 

Like seriously.  He was a bastard. 

She heard Jane rustling around at her desk, sifting through all the pop tart wrappers and energy bar wrappers…and candy bar wrappers. 

Jane had a lot of wrappers, okay? 

_Yes…Jane…she was here today…present…she probably has all KINDS of shit to say about Pietro.  She ALWAYS has something to say about my boyfriends._

Jane had been the first one to point out what a fake Lukas had been.  She’d seen through all the bullshit and charisma and saw the sweltering cesspool underneath.  She’d seen it all along.  If only Darcy had listened to her. 

She wasn’t ever going to make that mistake again. 

“Jane…” she swiveled in the chair and rolled herself over to Jane’s desk. 

“Hmm?”

“What are you looking for?” 

“My pen.” 

“Behind your ear.” 

“Oh…” Jane felt up behind her left ear and pulled it down.  “No, the blue one.” 

“Front pocket.  Cap’s off.  Leaking everywhere.” 

“Dammit…” she pulled it out and capped it, throwing it on the desk and sweeping her hair up into a messy ponytail. 

“Soooo…Dr. Jane…did you get a chance to observe my guest and I today during lunch?” 

Jane raised an eyebrow, securing a rubber band around her ponytail, “I did.” 

“And??? What do you think?” 

“I think this is a topic better suited for after work.” 

“Well, that won’t fly, I have a date with said guest tonight and I need to know your verdict before then.” 

She sighed, “I GUESS I can take an early day…since my desk is a mess and my pen leaked all over my favorite shirt…” 

“And your coffee leaked on it as well…” Darcy offered. 

She glanced down at the brown stain over her right boob, “Ugh.  Clothes.” 

“Right?  Nudism for the win.” 

“For real.  Or just…you know…gray sacks with huge pockets.” 

“POCKETS…” Darcy exhaled.  “I love a good pocket.” 

“Me too.  Which reminds me…” She paused for effect, smiling, “I ALSO love your boyfriend.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend.  We just…date and make out and spend a lot of time together, and I let him buy me stuff…sheesh.” 

“Yeah…sweetie…that’s a boyfriend.” 

“Labels…yuck.  HE doesn’t even call us anything.” 

“Maybe HE’S trying to gauge your reaction and base his off that.” 

“Yeah.  Sure.  Take his side.” 

“Darcy…he’s great.  He’s nice.  He’s funny.  He makes you laugh.  You make him laugh.  He’s cute, he CARES about you…that’s the big one.”

“And he’s got pecs to knock on.” 

“That certainly doesn’t hurt,” Jane chuckled knowingly. 

Darcy rolled her eyes.  She didn’t need to know what kind of ‘knocking’ Jane and Thor had been up to lately.   

“How do you know he cares? How can you tell the difference between what he does and what…” she paused, not really wanting to bring the name up at all, “Lukas did?” 

“Because when you’re not looking, Pietro just…he just gazes at you. He hangs on your every word, like he’s trying to commit it to memory.  Lukas…he shut down when you weren’t looking.  Every single thing he was…was an act.  Pietro’s not acting.  It’s legit.” 

“And you can tell the difference?” 

“Big time. Darce, he’s a good one.” 

_A good one._

This was a strange feeling.  Doing something to garner Jane’s approval that didn’t involve snack food or a well-timed coffee break.

“Have you talked to him about what happened in Iceland?” Jane asked quietly.

 _Ah…here it is.  Now I’ll get the disapproval.  That’s good…it’s good.  I thrive on normalcy.  And THAT is normal._  

“No.  Why would I?  That’s ancient history.” 

“Well…I don’t want to tell you what to do…” 

_Yes, you fucking do, you liar._

“So don’t…” Darcy shrugged. 

“BUT, if I were you…I would tell him about it.” 

“Why? So he can feel sorry for me like everyone else?  Feel sorry that I got taken advantage of?  Sorry that some scum bucket took me for every dime I had?  Or WORSE…judge me for it?” 

“First off, it wasn’t JUST the money he took, Darcy.  He could have gotten you incarcerated.  And I don’t think Pietro would judge you for anything.”   

“It doesn’t matter. It’s none of his business.  He…he wouldn’t care anyway.  I mean…it’s not like I’m still…it’s nothing that would jeopardize him or anything.” 

“I’m not saying that, I’m SAYING that you keep sweeping this thing with Lukas under the rug like it’s nothing, when it’s STILL dictating your every move. You are letting this cloud your judgement.  You’re letting this taint your perception of Pietro.” 

“Jeez, Jane…when is my judgement NOT clouded?” 

“You are looking at the world through jaded lenses.  Yes, there are bad people.  But there are good people too.  Like you.  And like Pietro.  He’s good people.  I promise.” 

“Jaded lenses…rose colored glasses...if you want to be truthful, EVERYONE sees the world in some shade of a color that doesn’t exist for anyone else.  Nothing is black and white. It’s all shades of gray.  And it’s all relative to how you live life.  YOU have a picture perfect relationship with a fucking prince.  I got screwed over by a drug dealer in Iceland, WHO by the way, is the only man save FAMILY who has said the ‘L’ word to me…maybe I’m ENTITLED to my jaded view of life?”

 _Because the only person who WOULD say the ‘L’ word to me is someone who is lying.  How’s that for fucked up?_  

“Of course you are.  I’m only saying this from the view of an outsider looking in…maybe just…try to enjoy yourself more than you are.  Let loose…I mean…think about it.  Pietro doesn’t NEED you for anything, except companionship.  He doesn’t need money.  He doesn’t need a place to live.  He’s got a job and very little free time.  (ALL of which he wants to spend with you).  I guess I’m saying just…go for it.” 

“That’s it?  ‘Go for it’? ‘Let loose’?  That’s your SAGE wisdom? Jesus Christ, Jane, are you going to grind the bud for us too? I could have gotten that much from TONY.  You might as well have said, ‘Just go bang the guy, let him fuck you REEEAAAAL good.” 

“You…haven’t?” 

Darcy stared in disbelief, “NO!  I learned my fucking lesson, Foster! I didn’t just JUMP into this.  Believe it or not, some of those lectures you gave me sunk in.” 

“Well…then…yeah.  That’s my advice. Go…have sex with him.  You deserve it.” 

“Are you SERIOUS right now?  You want me to let him pound me into the mattress, and then…what?  I’ll FEEL better?  Because I’m…what?  HYSTERICAL right now?  I just need a good old fashioned paroxysm, and then I’ll be right as rain?”

“I hate that I taught you that word.”

“Because…I mean…it’s not like I’ve been doing without…” 

_My pocket rocket makes sure of that…_

“Darcy…” she sighed, “You know what I’m going to say.” 

“Yes…I know what you’re going to say.”

Jane shot her a look. 

“Fine, fine…Jane, I’ll go have sex with my boyfriend.” 

“Oh, so he’s your boyfriend now?” she grinned slyly, like she’d WON or something.

“Shut up, Jane.” 

* * *

She probably changed her underwear twenty times before seven o’clock rolled around.  She settled on the light blue set. With the heart. Since those seemed to have caught his eye when he saw them on her couch.  Hopefully he’d like them on her just as much.

The bra was supportive, and yet, still maintained that lacy, barely there thing that guys seemed to like.  The panties were bikinis.  Nothing too risqué.  Not like she was going to break out the slutty stuff for the first time.  He’d have to prove he was worth silk bras and crotch-less panties. 

She opted for comfort, pulling on grey leggings and a t shirt.  Oversized cardigan.  Not like it was going to stay on for very long anyway.  If she had anything to say about it.

The more she thought about it, the more she agreed with Jane.  Not that she’d ever tell HER that, though. 

Enough was enough.  She wanted to be with him, it had been almost a month and he hadn’t so much as touched her anywhere without permission. 

Which was surprising, because she had fully expected to have to beat him back with a stick. 

Because, based on what Clint had told her, Pietro was a DOG. 

But he’d always been the perfect gentleman towards her, and unless that was part of a ridiculously long con, she was inclined to trust him.

She exhaled loudly, checking the time again.

_I don’t think I was this nervous for my ACTUAL first time.  Probably should have been._

She was going over to his place on the pretense of watching a movie.  But…everyone knew what that meant, right?

She checked her breath one last time.  Still minty fresh. 

She left, taking her purse, with her spare toothbrush AND condoms stashed inside.  Because she was a responsible sex-starved ingrate. 

Her heart was pounding so loudly, she was sure it was audible. 

She knocked twice on his door.  He answered almost immediately, which if it had been anyone else, would have looked ridiculously needy. But, with him, anything short of immediate was fashionably late.

“Hi…” he said brightly, looking fucking amazing as always. How could someone look this good in a t-shirt and track pants?  Fucking plain black t-shirt and grey track pants.  Did he have his t-shirts tailored?  Or was he the lucky son-of-a-bitch who had that body type that everything on the rack was made for?  It was so unfair.     

“Hi yourself…” she leaned against the door frame. 

“You look beautiful…” he raked his gaze over her, just like he always did…polite eye-fucking, she liked to call it. 

How could he NOT see the difference between them?  She was so out of her league here.  He was buff perfection and she was the human equivalent of lumpy oatmeal.

_Ah…there you are…my body image issues!  How I have missed you…_

“Are you gonna invite me in, or…” 

He blinked rapidly, “Of course…come in…” he moved aside to allow her entrance and shut the door behind them. 

His apartment was…typical twenty-something guy.  Pretty bare…save for the gratuitous poster of a random sports car straddled by impossibly large-chested woman in a bikini that matched the paint job of said car.  No piles of underwear laying around, though.  So she honestly didn’t get what he meant when he’d said his apartment was worse than hers. 

Unless he was talking about the poster.

“Classy…” she raised an eyebrow at the poster, which happened to be over the couch. 

“Oh that…it was here when I moved in…” he grinned, shrugging.  “I did not think I should remove it from its home, you know?”    

“Right…THAT would be a tragedy…” she looked around.  “At least it’s not in the bedroom.” 

“No, of course not…” he scoffed.  “How could I fit both that…AND a mirror over my bed?” 

“You have a mirror over your bed?” 

“I guess you will have to wait and find out…” he winked. 

“Do you also have a vibrating bed and a heart-shaped hot tub?”

“I do not NEED a vibrating bed…and Stark would never let me install a hot tub.  Of that, I am sure.” 

“That’s a damn shame…” she fiddled with her bag for a moment.  “Can I set this down somewhere, or do I have to hold it for the whole evening?” 

“I am sorry…here…” he took the bag and hung it on a row of hooks by the front door.  “I am not a very good…host…I apologize…” 

“Oh, you’re doing fine…” she moved closer, lowering her voice, “Do I get a tour?”

“A tour?  Of course…a tour…well…this is the…eh…living room…you have seen that already…this is the kitchen…” he turned and walked towards it.

He had a French press coffee maker, a coffee grinder and a sugar bowl on his counter top.  There were no dishes in the sink, save for a mug and a couple of spoons. 

“Don’t do much in here, do you?” she asked jokingly. 

“I…uh…do not cook…”

“What did you do when one of your girlies spent the night?” 

“Uh…” he shifted uncomfortably. 

“Right…gotcha…” she pressed her lips together and nodded.  “Chez Pietro is NOT a bed and breakfast...so do you kick them out when you’re done, or do you call them a cab first?”

“When you say it like that…it sounds so horrible…” 

“Well, that’s none of my business…” she drawled and walked back out into the living room. 

“I have food here…” he blurted. 

“Piet, I literally do not care whether you do or you don’t.” 

“I do not cook…but I could order out…” he said defensively, following her.  “I wouldn’t…you could…” 

“You don’t do overnight guests.  That’s completely fine, Christian Grey.”

“No, THAT would be, ‘I don’t do romance’.” 

“Pride & Prejudice, you don’t get…but Fifty Shades…of course.” 

He shrugged, “One of the movies I took one of my…eh…’TWINKIES’ to see…” 

She laughed, “And you actually watched it?” 

“Yes.” 

“I hope you weren’t taking notes…” 

He scoffed, “Please.  That idiot should take notes from me…” he paused for a moment, gazing at her.  “If a time came…where you were…HERE…I would be fine…if you wanted to…stay the night…I would even learn how to make your…breakfast in the morning if I needed to.” 

“If a time came?” she echoed. 

“Yeah…in the…future.  Not…I didn’t mean that you…in the future,” he stressed.    

He was NOT getting all the signals she was throwing out. 

“Sooo…do I get to see the rest of your apartment?  Or do I have to have VIP access for that?” 

He smiled, “You have VIP access…” 

“So show me your bedroom.” 

 He raised his eyebrows.  “You want to see my bedroom?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay…I must warn you, it’s not that interesting…” he said, shrugging. 

_Will be once you have a naked chick spread out on your bed…_

He was right, though.  He had a white bedspread on a double bed, six pillows, surprisingly all with pillow cases. A bedside table with a lamp and a box of Kleenex on it…

_Seriously?  Like I don’t know what you do with those…at least you keep your lube in the drawer._

There was a dresser, a big wooden chest at the bottom of the bed and a hamper in the corner. 

And that was it. 

Except for the pajama bottoms that were strewn on the floor in front of the closet door. 

“Sorry…” he said quietly, darting over to quickly grab them and throw them in the hamper.  “I would have cleaned up if I knew you were coming in here…” 

_So he DOES think this is just a movie night.  Oi._

“Pietro…you’ve seen my apartment…right?  Big pile of panties ring any bells?” 

He smirked, “It rings all of them…” 

“Right…so you really don’t need to apologize…you seem to be a ridiculously clean and tidy person…you and I have a vastly different understanding of the word ‘mess’…” She glanced up at the ceiling briefly, “No mirror on the ceiling…I’m disappointed, Maximoff…” 

He chuckled, looking down.  “Do you…like it?” 

“Your room? Yeah…it’s nice.  It’s clean…” 

“Is that bad?”

She shook her head.  “Nope…” 

“Well, I should go start the movie…” he turned towards the door.

She followed, wondering if this was a game or what.    

“What are we watching?” she asked, playing along until she figured out his angle. 

“Um…I thought you might have some suggestions?” 

“Whatever you pick will be fine…is this the bathroom?” she gestured towards the door across from the bedroom.

“Yes…you don’t have any opinions? I cannot imagine a world where Darcy Lewis has no opinion,” he teased. 

“I’ll think it over…” she said, shutting the door to the bathroom and flipping on the light switch.    

She looked around, not really wanting to snoop, but wanting to at the same time. 

He had a single white towel, neatly folded in a cabinet beside the tub.  Four white washcloths and two hand towels.  Another towel was hanging on the rack. 

_Minimalist…can’t say I’m surprised._

She didn’t have to use the bathroom or anything, but she just needed a second to regroup, wondering if he was playing a game or if he actually had no clue what was on her mind. 

She wasn’t sure which option she preferred. 

_I could just take all doubt out of his mind completely…if there is doubt…and come out of here stark naked._

_Except I’m not sure I have the balls to do that._

_Maybe just in the underwear.  It matches, after all.  I put on matching underwear for this guy, I might as well make sure he sees it._

A knot of fear clenched in her stomach as she thought about walking out of here with that much skin exposed. 

_Snap out of it, you want to have sex, did you think he would cut a hole in the sheet so he couldn’t see your body?  He ogles you enough that he HAS to like something about it._

_AND, not to mention that if he IS playing a game, I’m pretty sure my tits in this bra would end it.  And if he isn’t, and he really is so incredibly naïve as to think I actually wanted to watch a movie, well, this just makes his night that much better._

Confidence sufficiently bolstered, she started to strip off her clothes, being sure to fold everything and place it on top of the white cabinet so she could find it later.  Soon, she was standing there in front of the mirror in her bra and panties. 

In this light, this color was the perfect choice because the blue made her skin look rosy pink instead of sallow and pale. 

She only hoped the light was as flattering in his bedroom. 

She took a deep breath and opened the door.  Her heart leapt into her throat when she rounded the corner and realized she had no idea how to get his attention.

He was flipping through the digital movie library Tony provided for all of them, likely trying to figure out what to watch.   

She leaned against the archway into the living room, folding her arms in front of her.  It pushed up her boobs and made them look perkier than they were.

She coughed and he looked up, his eyes raking over her before widening in surprise.  His mouth fell open and he stammered, “Uh…uh…” 

_As good a reaction as any…_

“Umm…” she began, “I’m going to be back here…” she jerked her thumb in the direction of the bedroom, “if you want to join me after you finish your movie…I’ll try not to start without you…”  She grinned and turned, tossing her hair as she did.  

Her back hit the wall, her legs leaving the ground. His hand caught her head before she hit it.  His body trapping her there.

His lips came crashing down on hers, violently nipping, sucking, pulling.

“Like HELL you are going to start without me…” he growled. 

“Had to get your attention somehow…” Darcy breathed, her chest heaving against him, “You were pretty intent on picking a movie…wasn’t sure I could compete…” 

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, “Are these for me?” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin as he stroked her breasts through the lace bra. 

She honestly didn’t know if he meant the underwear or what it covered. 

He had her pinned against the wall in his hallway, his thigh between hers, pressed against her heat.  Her toes barely brushed the carpet, so she was forced to hold onto his arms for balance or go toppling to the floor.   

She retaliated by digging in her nails when he dipped down to kiss her again.  She hooked first one leg around his waist and then the other. 

Her lips already felt bruised from his kisses, so she broke it off, staring into his eyes.  His pupils were blown wide, almost none of the blue was visible.  His own lips were red and swollen because she gave as good as she got. 

His hips bucked forward, drawing her attention to the rock hard bulge now poking her in the hip. 

“Is that what you want?” he grinned devilishly. 

She reached down to palm it roughly.  “Yes.  I want to ride that dick until you’re begging for mercy.” 

He smiled faintly, “I do not BEG.” 

“We’ll see,” she smirked. 

He chuckled, “Big talk for someone who…uh…already did half my work…” he poked his finger just inside the cup of her bra, stroking back and forth, before trailing that finger down to her panties, “I bet you are already wet for me, aren’t you?” 

She stared at his lips, unable to meet his gaze.  Because she was.  Had been ever since he started manhandling her. 

She grabbed his shirt, clutching the fabric and pulling him roughly to her lips. Moving them against his, her hands leaving his shirt to pull at his hair. He grunted into her mouth, shifting her weight as he braced her more firmly against the wall. 

His hands moved up to her breasts, covering them and squeezing, nuzzling them gently and tugging at the lace with his teeth.  He mumbled something she couldn’t understand, and then again in English, “These are better than I imagined…”

She groaned as he tugged down the cups, tucking them under her breasts.  He leaned forward, attacking her mouth again as his thumbs rubbed slow circles on her nipples.  His lips moved lower, attaching themselves to her neck as he sucked.  Hard. 

“Alright, Edward Cullen…fucking chill…you’re going to leave marks…” 

He hummed in agreement, cupping her breasts as his thumbs continued their slow torture. 

He released her neck with a pop, moving over to the other side to give her a matching set. 

“Pietro…I have to go out in public at some point…” 

He released her again, hoisting her up higher on the wall, bending his knee to prop her up more.  He kissed his way down her collarbone and up over the swell of her breast.  He sucked her nipple into his mouth, flicking softly with his tongue while she ground herself helplessly against his unrelenting thigh.  His fucking leg muscles must just be…

“Damn you…” she groaned, both wanting more and wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine.  His own mind-blowingly torturous medicine. 

“You like that?” he swirled his tongue around her nipple while she groaned.  “More of that?”

“Bedroom?” she asked desperately.  She was at a disadvantage, as…pinned to the wall as she was. 

“Not yet…” he teased.  “This is too much fun…” 

_If only I wasn’t completely pinned to this…_

_Wait…_

She squeezed her hands on his forearms, loosening her grip on one to test her balance. 

 _Hands free, baby.  Complete with opposable thumbs…_  

She trailed her fingertips up the underside of his bicep, thrilling a little at the way he shivered as she traced along under his arm.

_Ticklish spot, ticklish spot, I know your ticklish spot…and you will rue the day that I found it, you fucking tease._

She groaned as she felt his teeth lightly scrape against her nipple. 

_Oh fuck me, I never thought I’d like that…_

Down his side, along his hip to his crotch, to where that hard bulge was poking her.

 She ran her thumb smoothly from base to tip, making him shudder a little, his leg dropping slightly.

It affected him alright, broke his concentration. 

So mission accomplished. Except…now she was feeling his dick, palming it, mentally measuring it.  And even if you took off some for the bulk of the fabric covering it…it was still fucking huge.

And that fact was making her even wetter. 

 _Oh God, I want that.  I want that._  

“Mmmm…” she hummed in his ear.  “I bet that feels good, doesn’t it?”

 _I bet it’ll feel good inside me too._   

He bucked his hips towards her, laving her nipple with his wonderful tongue.

“You’re so big and hard for me, aren’t you?”

_Oh sweet fuck, that IS for me.  It’s going inside me. If I don’t come immediately it’s because of extreme willpower._

He grunted in reply, releasing her breasts as he grabbed her hands, dropping his leg so that she was pinned against the wall on her tip toes, her arms above her head while he ground his hips against her. 

His breath was hot on her face, lips just grazing hers.  He wrapped one of his hands around both her wrists, letting his other trail down her body, making her quiver and clench in all the right places. 

“Yes, I am hard for you…just like you are soaked for me…” his fingers dipped down into her panties, sliding between her folds easily.  He whispered in her ear, something that by his tone, she was sure was as filthy as her thoughts at that moment. 

_Oh fuck me.  Just fuck me already, turn me around and mount me like a fucking stallion, Maximoff._

She bit down on her lip, letting out a strangled sound. 

“Let me hear you, _Princeza,”_ he murmured, his voice tickling her ear, two fingers drawling lazy circles around her clit.  “Do you like that?” 

To say yes would be admitting defeat, so she hoped he’d settle for the throaty moan that issued instead. 

He stopped rubbing her, sliding his fingers up and out, glistening with her arousal.  He sucked them into his mouth, licking them clean. “Do you like that, Darcy?”   

She met his gaze. He looked as wrecked as she felt, his hips pressing against hers every so often and for a split second, she just wanted to give in, let him have his way, because it was obvious they both wanted this painfully AND it had been a long time AND he obviously knew what he was doing…    

But there was that part of her that just couldn’t accept defeat.  He was right.  It was too fun. 

She yanked her arms free, which startled him for a split second.  She wound them around his neck and launched herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist and attacking his neck.  She licked a long stripe up the column of his throat as his back hit the wall behind them.  She sucked at the skin there, nibbling and biting to ensure she marked him.  His arms were around her waist, holding her fast to the front of him.  

She felt a rush of air and suddenly found herself bouncing backwards on his bed, her stomach clenching with the speed of it all.

And he was painstakingly pulling off his t-shirt, bracing his knee on the end of the bed. 

“I wanted to do that,” she pouted. 

“You did not let me undress you…” he smirked, pulling it over his head, revealing his too fucking ripped chest.  He was just too fucking hot for his own good.  She could just spy the tops of his V muscles.  She was so fucking screwed.  Literally.  Figuratively.  She wanted to eat him.  Bite him.  He looked that good. 

“YOU were too busy trying to find a movie,” she retorted. 

“Just for eh…the future reference…if fucking you is on the table, THAT…is what I want to do.” 

“Fucking on a table sounds fun.” 

He waggled his eyebrows, “Next time, _Lutko._ I will have you all over this apartment. Right now…I am just trying to handle you on my bed…” 

Her stomach swooped, desire pooling in her gut and slicking her elsewhere. 

“Take those off…” he gestured down to her panties.  “I am through fucking around…” 

She scrambled to take them off, kicking them somewhere.  She didn’t care where they ended up. 

He slipped off his pants AND underwear as he crawled up to her.   

She gasped when she saw the actual SIZE of his…set up…his cock.  His cock was fucking huge.  It was huge and heavy…veiny…just…

“Wow…I guess I can check uncircumcised off on Penis Bingo now…” she muttered, mostly to herself, but he must have heard her, his mouth twitched upward slightly.

_Oh god, his dick looks like it should be sculpted.  Holy shit, there has to be a marble rendering of it somewhere._

“Jesus…” She reached out to touch it when he caught her hand. 

“No…” he grabbed her legs behind the knees, pulling her down the bed towards him, settling himself between them. He wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, pumping it roughly a few times.  “It’s Pietro.  Let me see if I can help you remember…” 

He reached over to the side table for a condom, most likely.  He ripped the foil, rolled it on.

“Just…go slow…” she whispered.  “It’s been a while.” 

“Of course…”

_Smug bastard thinks he’s won._

She wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning as he pressed the head of his cock against her, rubbing her clit. 

_Yoga don’t fail me now…_

She whipped her legs to the side, successfully rolling him onto his back, his cock bounced against her as she let go of his hair, raking his chest with her nails as she perched atop him, her legs straddling his hips.  

“Fucking minx…” he rasped, arching his back and pushing his hair out of his face. 

“I told you…I wanted to ride this dick…” she wrapped her hand around him.  “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll lay back and let me.  I always get my way.” 

He groaned as she pumped her hand up his very impressive length.

“If this is your way, you can have it, _Princeza._ ”

“Just like that?’ she lined him up with her opening, sliding down to take him in just the tip. 

He grunted, “I will have my way later.” 

“And what is your way?” she asked, her voice trembling a little as she slowly slid down to take him all in.  She whimpered a little at the full feeling as her hips met his. 

His hands clutched her hips.  “Stop talking and fuck me, Darcy…” 

She squeezed her thighs together, rising up off him before slamming back down.  She repeated the action, shifting back a little, trying to get him to hit that sweet spot...

His breath huffed out with each thrust, his hips rising a little to meet hers, a constant stream of mumbled stammering burst forth from his lips, mixed English and Sokovian and all of it fucking filthy. 

She was so wet, he was sliding in and out perfectly, but the angle wasn’t right. 

 _His dick must be curved or something,_ she thought to herself.  He seemed to be enjoying it, but it wasn’t quite enough for her. 

Not that it didn’t feel good.  It felt amazing.  Being this full and in control and…just…mmm. 

She sped up, trying to lean a little further back, which was still just shy of the spot she was going for. 

She grunted in frustration, fucking him harder and sliding her fingers down to rub her clit. 

“This is just not…can you…” she stammered, wanting help, but not knowing how to ask. 

He grasped her hips tighter and she found herself on her back, her legs spread, feet planted on the bed. 

He slid back into her, snapping his hips forward and hitting just the right spot. 

“Pietro…” she moaned. 

“I am forever…” his hips slammed into hers, “at your service…”   

It was good, it was so fucking good…

“Harder…”

He smirked, obliging her.  “Like that?” 

“Faster…” 

“I can definitely do that…” 

He sped up, his hips pumping faster than should be allowed.  Her breasts bounced slightly and the bed frame was squeaking in protest. 

She honestly didn’t care that she wasn’t on top because it felt so damn good. 

“Oh…don’t stop…Pietro…” 

_It is easier to moan his name than I thought…_

She reached out to grab his hips, her finger nails sinking into the fleshy part of his ass.  His tight, muscular, beautifully sculpted hindquarters. 

_Like…fuck…his ass is like a table…_

He reached up to stroke her cheek, poking two fingers between her lips.  His own were parted, his tongue poking out to sweep over his top lip. 

She sucked his fingers into her mouth, swiping her tongue over them, coating them liberally with her spit as he pulled them out. 

She knew what he was going to do and it made her stomach pull even more. 

He reached down to circle her clit with those fingers, increasing in speed until he was damn near the speed of her bullet vibrator. 

“Oh…fuck me…” she murmured. 

He smiled crookedly, “Come for me, Darcy…please come for me…” his voice was low, rumbling, and somehow the loudest thing in the room. 

She felt something snap in her mind as wave after delicious wave of pleasure crashed over her, dragging her under. 

She sank her nails into his ass, likely breaking the skin, but he didn’t seem to care, if his loud panting and moaning was any inclination. 

“Pietro…fuck…oh fuck…fuck…” she felt her hips bucking towards him on their own. 

“I’m close…fuck…” he warned.  “Oh…Darcy…you feel so…” and he slowly degenerated into his mother tongue, interspersed with her name. 

_Oh that’s so fucking hot. I made him forget English.  Fuck…_

“Coming…” he gasped as his hips started to slam into her hard, slowing just slightly.  His fingers dug into her hips as he thrust through his release.  He knit his brow and stared deeply into her eyes as his hips slowed.  His breath coming out in huffs as he fell forward on his hands and over to the side, taking her with him. 

He lay there, panting, his arms wrapped around her waist, her head resting on his chest, their legs tangled together. 

She dragged her fingertips over those V-muscles she’d spied earlier.  Dragging them upward over his abs and pecs, reveling over how fucking RIPPED he actually was.    

“What?” he asked, shifting a little when she glanced over one of his ticklish spots.   

“You are so fucking hot.” 

He grinned and rolled over to kiss her. “So are you…” 

“Not nearly as hot as you.  But, we’re good as long as you don’t realize that…” 

He ran his hand up and down her body, “The thought of you like this…keeps me up at night.”

Her stomach swooped as he leaned in to kiss her neck, “Really?” 

He hummed, “It will be worse now that I know what you feel like…what you sound like…what you look like…I’ll never get a moment’s rest…”

“Maybe I’ll just have to do what I can to wear you out…” 

He chuckled, kissing her lips.  “So…how was I?” 

She giggled, kissing him back.  “Very VERY good.”

“That’s all?” he asked.

“What’s all?  You were very VERY good.”    

“Just good?” 

She cocked an eyebrow, “Yes.  I’m leaving you room for improvement.” 

“Oh okay…” he began stroking her back, up and down her spine.  He stopped abruptly.  “Wait…what?” 

 

   

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was good...I hope it was worth the wait... 
> 
> *heavy breathing* 
> 
> Let me know!


	8. Bath Bombs Sound Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter. 
> 
> I sandwiched the heavy stuff with fluff, so I hope that's okay. :) It's like...a roast beef sandwich on the fluffiest bread you can think of. :) 
> 
> Anyway...flashback-y stuff is in italics. Yay. Now you'll know exactly why Lukas is a twat of epic proportions. 
> 
> And I do some Tony POV in this chapter. It was necessary to get his side of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiff Upper Lip, AC/DC.  
> Blackbird, The Beatles
> 
> Thank you to [heyfrenchfreudiana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana) for beta reading this for me.

**Darcy**

“You’re late,” Jane said, peering up at Darcy from behind her glasses.  “I take it you had FUN last night?” 

“VERY good date. Exceptional date.  Extraordinary date.”

Any other time and she’d have been gushing all the details, but she was feeling stingy.  She wanted to keep them all to herself for a while longer. 

“Did you spend the night?”

Darcy grinned, “I might have…” 

“Did he make you breakfast?”

“He ordered in…”

“Did he kiss you goodbye?” 

She blushed and grinned wider, sitting down at her desk. 

“Awww…you’re so cute when you’re smitten.” 

“I’m not smitten.” 

“You are too.  You can’t stop smiling.” 

“I could if I wanted to.  But who would want to stop smiling, Jane?” 

Jane put down her pen and wheeled her chair over to Darcy’s desk.  “When are you going to see him again?” 

“Not until this weekend…they all went upstate to the training facility up there…”

“Aww…are you going to miss him?” 

She snorted in response. 

Because she DID miss him already.  She’d see him in four days.  She could handle four days without him.  She wasn’t one of those stupid girls who couldn’t be without her man for four measly days.

“What are you going to do when you see him again?” 

Darcy cocked an eyebrow, earning her a swat on the shoulder. 

“Besides that!” 

“Well…he invited me over to have dinner with Wanda and Vision…he apparently doesn’t get along with Vision very well, so I’m going to be there as a buffer, I guess.  I mean…we’re double dating already!  I thought I’d be a little more freaked out by that, but I’m not.” 

“Not just double dating…it’s Wanda, so it’s technically a family dinner too…” 

“Oh wow, I didn’t even THINK of that…” she froze with her mouth open for a moment. 

“You okay?” 

Darcy nodded, “Yeah, surprisingly…”   

“Don’t you just LOVE the beginnings of relationships?”

“This one, I do…” 

“So it’s a relationship?  Are you his girlfriend?” 

“I think so…” her face fucking hurt from smiling so much.  It was almost obnoxious.  Almost. “I mean, we’re double dating with his sister and her boyfriend, so I’d say yes.” 

Jane slid her arm around her, hugging her shoulders tightly before wheeling back to her own desk. 

Darcy was inexplicably nervous and jittery.  Every time she thought about something pertaining to the night before, it was difficult to keep a straight face. 

Her skin tingled in memory of his fingers, his hands…his lips.  

She wasn’t going to get ANYTHING done today. 

_Whose bright idea was it to have sex last night when we weren’t going to see each other for four days?_

_-Yours, nimrod._

_Right.  Jesus._

“Jane…” 

“Hmm?” 

“When do you think a good time to tell him about…the unpleasantness in Iceland would be?” 

“I assume you’re looking for an answer other than ‘a week ago’?” 

“You’d be correct.” 

_Smart ass…_

“Well…I’d have to say as soon as possible.  Maybe not until he gets back, and not right before a huge stressful dinner with his sister…” 

“So after the dinner?” 

“That’s when I would do it.” 

She took a deep breath, nodding.  “Okay.  That’s when I’ll do it, then.” 

“While he’s gone, you MIGHT want to go talk to Tony about it.  Make sure he doesn’t stick his foot in his mouth and tell him anything.” 

“But he LOVES sticking his foot in his mouth, Jane.” 

“I know, but Tony can’t have what he wants ALL the time.” 

“Where is that adorable jerk, anyway?” Darcy looked up and over the partition in front of her desk. 

“I dunno.  He never came in.  Ask Friday.” 

* * *

 

**Tony**

“Sir?”  Friday’s smooth voice interrupted him, causing him to jump a little, dropping the itsy bitsy screw down between the moving plates of the suit he was working on. 

“FUUUUCK…”  Now he was going to have to take the whole damn thing apart to find it.  Otherwise, it was going to blow his arm all to hell the next time he put it on.  “What is it?” 

“My apologies, sir…Ms. Lewis is looking for you.” 

“Fantastic…why?” 

“I do not have that information.  Do you want me to ask her?” 

“No, just tell her I’m in my workshop.” 

“Right away, Mr. Stark…” 

He cracked his neck.  He was getting too fucking old for this shit.  “Friday…” 

“Sir?” 

“Stiff Upper Lip, AC/DC.” 

“Of course.” 

There.  Appropriate tunes for tedious work.

He set to work removing each of the interlocking plates from the arm piece. 

It was about 20 minutes before Darcy came rushing into the lab, slamming her hands down on the tabletop in front of him, rattling the tools and pieces of armor he had there in front of him. 

“Rude…” he stated.

She did it again. 

“And excessive…what is it girl? Use your words…” 

 “We need to talk, Daddy Stark.” 

“Don’t call me that…it’s Uncle Tony or nothing.” 

“About Iceland.” 

“I was told that what happens in Iceland, stays in Iceland…when it pertains to you, that is.” 

“I just wanted to talk about what went on there…things that you are AWARE of that others might not be…”

“Aware?  I remember it differently.  I think I came in at the eleventh hour and saved your sorry ass. Your sorry stoned ass.” 

“Tony…” 

“What I don’t understand is the severe lack of ass kissing and gift baskets.  I would enjoy some Lush bath bombs.  Those look like a lot of fun.” 

“Tony…” 

“I mean, Pep tells me they aren’t ACTUALLY bombs…but I figure…something with ‘bomb’ in the name has to be pretty fun, amiright?” 

“Don’t tell Pietro about it.” 

“About bath bombs?  Why not?  I think everyone should have fun in the bath.  You know what?  As part of my consolatory prize, get him some too.  Unless…you already give him enough things to play with in the bath…” he winked. 

“Be serious.  For five minutes.” 

“Okay…repeat.” 

“Don’t tell Pietro about what happened in Iceland…it needs to come from me.” 

“Darcy…I don’t think he’s going to care that you were high on ecstasy.  I mean…he entered into a contract with a murder bot and tried to kill all of us…dropping some X laced with what I’m pretty sure was LSD isn’t going to make him think less of you.” 

“I don’t care, I just don’t want him finding out about that or Lukas from anyone other than me.” 

“OH…Rainbow Beard?” 

“It was green…not rainbow.” 

“Well, when I tell it, it’s going to be rainbow.” 

“You’re not going to tell it!” 

“Fine…when I imagine it…he’s going to have a rainbow beard.” 

“Tony…please stay here with me…“

He shrugged, “It’s your life, but why do you care?  You came out of that looking pretty golden.” 

“It’s fucking embarrassing, that’s why.  I’ll tell him myself.”

Tony raised his hands in front of him.  “My lips are sealed.  I never talk to the little brat anyway. STILL hates my guts.”

“Alright, well…thank you…” she turned and left just as abruptly as she appeared. 

“Bye, Tony!  Thanks for helping my ass out of sticky situation!  You’re the best!” he muttered under his breath, “Oh you’re welcome, Darcy.  Anything for you, champ.”

* * *

 

**3 ½ months earlier…**

_He’d just touched down in New York when the call came through.  He was tired, sore, fucking pissed off about a few things…_

_Jarvis…gone._

_Bruce…gone._

_He had that fucking shit of a speedster in the infirmary, getting his ass knit back together from the 12 gunshot wounds that should have killed him but didn’t._

_Pepper wasn’t even coming in from LA until the weekend, so he was alone here for 3 whole days with no one but his thoughts._

_And the other teammates.  But who the fuck wanted to talk to them?_

_Steve, Natasha, Clint…they’d all run to the infirmary with Weird Girl…Wanda…to look after her brother.  Even Vision was there._

_He just…couldn’t go for some reason.  He’d go down there tomorrow._

_His throat burned and he really fucking wanted a drink._

_He knew he shouldn’t but…he’d just saved the fucking world, he deserved something, right?_

_He stripped himself of his armor, letting the pieces fall where they did.  He crossed the room to the bar.  The constant reminder of what he couldn’t have.  What he wanted the most in this moment._

_And as luck would have it, his phone rang._

_Beautiful._

_Probably some fucking reporter.  Ready to get their scoop.  Set Bruce up to be the bad guy.  Some bullshit like that._

_He’d take the fucking rap for this if it meant Bruce would come back here and they could be Science Bros again._

_“Who is it?” He asked his AI. His AI who wasn’t Jarvis._

_“Foster, Jane…would you like me to send her to voice mail?”_

_“No…” he answered.  “I’ll take it.”_

_She was probably just looking for old Thunder Thighs anyway.  He’d direct her to Clint or Natasha._

_“Hello.”_

_“TONY.  THANK GOD…I’ve been trying you all day…”_

_“Been a little busy, actually…”_

_“Right…well, I hope you don’t mind me calling this late.”_

_“No, it’s alright.  Looking for Thor?”_

_“No.  We need you.”_

_“We?  Who’s we?”_

_“Me and Darcy…there’s a problem here…she’s in the hospital…”_

_“What happened?”_

_“She was found in an alley…no coat, soaking wet…fever of 105 degrees Fahrenheit…they think she’s displaying adverse effects to MDMA…”_

_“MDMA?  What?”_

_“I don’t…know…I haven’t been very…in tune with how she spends her time here and…”_

_“Don’t…she’ll be fine, Jane…did you call her dad?”_

_“Not yet…Tony…they’re talking about…charging her...with a crime.”_

_“CHARGING her?  I’m sure she’s not the first shit-faced idiot in Iceland who raved too hard…” he rubbed the bridge of his nose.  His head was starting to ache._

_“Drug possession?  DEALING?  Trafficking?  I’m…my Icelandic is mostly…uh…industrial, but those are the words I picked out…they don’t seem to understand that I need a translator…”_

_“Well…what do you need from me?”_

_“Tony…those are felony charges…”_

_“Prison time.  Right…” he sighed.  “Let me suit up, I’ll be there in about…eh…an hour or so.”_

_“Thank you, Tony. Thank you!”_

_“No problem…no problem…” the line clicked closed._

_“SSSHHHHHIIIIITTTT…” he exhaled loudly.  “Fucking shit. Lewis…I swear to FUCKING GOD…”_

_He stomped down to his workshop, strapped on a freshly charged travel suit and chugged two cups of old burnt cold coffee before taking off for Iceland._

_He got there just in time to knock some coconut heads together._

_He was there to kick ass and take names.  And he didn’t give a SHIT what any of their names were._

_He complained loudly enough that they called in the only officer on their force who could speak English. He showed up 20 minutes later with an untucked shirt and a coffee stain on his lap._

_“Sir…Mr. Stark, she’s being charged with eh…drug possession and…DEALING…trafficking.”_

_“DEALING?” he scoffed.  “Darcy would be the worst dealer ever.”_

_“Well…all the money…it eh…came from her bank card…” he pulled out a few sheets of paper.  “Look…each transaction amounts to about…300 USD each…amounting to 10,750 USD…the exact amount her…partner, Lukas Jonsson paid for the MDMA…”_

_“Where are the drugs?  If she was dealing…where are the drugs?”_

_“We…uh…have not found the drugs yet…but we ARE searching her apartment.”_

_Tony rolled his eyes.  “Okay, I’ll bite.  Tell me how you plan to charge her with felony trafficking if there aren’t even any drugs.”_

_“Sir…we think she may have passed them off to someone else to sell.”_

_“Right.  Just passed them off…no money exchanged.”_

_“Well…I realize it’s not…typical behavior…”_

_“What DO you have on her?  Besides use. USE, I’ll concede.  She’s used it most definitely. That money did come from her account, but I bet you ANY amount that you haven’t checked the ATM cams…pull those videos and show me that it’s her taking this money out at these times.”_

_“That could take hours.”_

_“Hours.  To clear an innocent girl’s name.  Pull them.  Or you can have the rest of this discussion with her lawyers.  Who are, consequently, my lawyers.”_

_One of the pricks rattled off a command, he’d assume to the tune of ‘Bring me the fucking video, Lars.’_

_He waited patiently, calling Jane at the hospital to check on Darcy.  Her fever was going down, BP and heart rate stabilizing._

_Approximately 45 minutes later…Hours my ass…they were watching video after video of some green bearded asswipe using Darcy’s card.  Over and over again._

_“Right…so that looks like theft to me.  He got her high, got her ATM number and used her card to get the money for the deal.  Seems like what you have here is a roofied burglary victim, who got swindled out of thousands of dollars.  I’m fairly certain that Green-Beard has made off with the drugs by now, so possession wouldn’t hold up since you don’t possess the drugs and neither does she…am I correct?”_

_“Correct, Mr. Stark.”_

_“So you have drug use, which carries a…550 USD fine here…at most…and since she’s already been stiffed for 10K, I think it would be kind of a nice gesture to waive that and let that poor girl go.”_

_“Of course, Mr. Stark.  We’ll release her into your custody right away.”_

_“Dr. Jane Foster’s custody.  I want to stick around and make sure that jack-ass gets what’s coming to him…” he tapped the screen in front of them._

_“We do not require any help catching our criminals, Mr. Stark.”_

_“Apparently you do, if you thought that girl was a criminal.”_

_The two officers in the room with him conversed for a few minutes, before the translator turned back to him, “We are grateful for any help you may wish to offer, Mr. Stark.”_

_“Fantastic.”_

* * *

 

 

**Darcy, still 3.5 months ago**

_She snorted really loudly and it woke her up.  Not the most SOPHISTICATED way to wake up, but oh well.  She looked around.  She wasn’t in her bed.  And she’d never been to Lukas’ apartment, but she highly doubted his bedroom looked anything like the inside of a hospital room._

_Hospital it is._

_What the fuck am I doing here?_

_She scrambled to remember what she had done yesterday.  Or the day before that…everything kind of meshed together since she’d starting accepting Lukas’ little ‘pick-me-ups’. Mollies.  They were mollies.  She really needed to stop lying to herself._

_Jane was there, talking on the phone to someone in hushed tones._

_She ended the call REALLY quickly when she saw her._

_“Darcy!  You’re awake!”_

_“Jane!  So are you!” she replied with similar enthusiasm.  They needed to start greeting each other like that on a regular basis._

_She might still have a tinge of euphoria going on._

_“How are you?” Jane asked, standing to hug her awkwardly, “Honey?”_

_“I’m fine, snookums…how are you?” Darcy glanced around.  Euphoric or not, she could tell when Jane was acting weird._

_She looked around for clues, spotting the newspaper on the table beside them._

_Jane was a stickler for printed news, had a few different papers delivered while they were here so she could keep up.  Even though she could keep up by visiting the websites._

**_ULTRON ATTACKS! U.N demands Avengers be held responsible!!!_ **

_“Oh shit…what went down yesterday?  Is Thor okay?” Darcy asked, pointing to the paper._

_“Oh, Thor’s fine…” Jane said flippantly.  “I talked to him this morning…what I want to know is how YOU are, Darce.”_

_“Jane, honestly…I’m fine.  A little euphoric, but fine.  What happened?  Why am I here?  Where’s Lukas?”_

_She froze.  She remembered flashing lights.  An ambulance?_

_“Oh god…Lukas!  Is he okay?  He isn’t hurt is he? Is he here?”_

_“He’s fine…bit of broken-nose-itis, but other than that…he’s fine…” she huffed and rolled her eyes._

_“What?”_

_She was starting to get annoyed._

_“Darcy…you want something to eat?  To drink?”_

_“No, I’m fine.  I’d like to know where Lukas is, though…we were supposed to go out tonight…” she started looking for her stuff.  “Why am I here, anyway? Am I okay? Can I go home?”_

_“You don’t remember…” Jane murmured, more to herself than Darcy._

_“No.  I don’t.  Please…enlighten me.”_

_“Darcy…they found you lying in an alley…soaking wet…no coat…delirious…”_

_“What?”_

_Flashing lights, so many lights…_

_“You were having an adverse reaction to the…uh…MDMA…in your system…MDMA and…LSD…according to your tox screen…”_

_Darcy opened her mouth and closed it again.  “Jane…I…uh…didn’t mean for you to…find out about that…”_

_“Darcy…LSD? MDMA?  You KNOW how bad those are for you!  How addictive!”_

_“I thought I was taking mollies…I didn’t know there was LSD in it…it must have been a bad batch…”_

_“Darcy!”_

_“What?  Jane!  I never…did anything like this in college…I was boring…I’m not boring here!  I’m fun…and pretty and Lukas loves me and…I like this me.  I’m not…the most plain vanilla person here. I’m living…vicariously…through myself…”_

_“You were never plain or vanilla.”_

_“I am, though, Jane.  You have to realize…how…fucking…HUMBLING it is to live where we do, and to work around the people I do…I mean…the closest thing I have to a best friend is YOU, and the only reason YOU want me around is to get stuff for you…I mean…don’t take that the wrong way…I love you, Jane.  I do.  You’re the sister I never had…I just…I feel so…painfully ordinary around you.  You’re beautiful, Nobel Prize winning scientist.  And back home…we literally live in a building with a bunch of super humans.  I can’t…I needed to feel special…and I feel special here.”_

_“Lukas does NOT think you are special.  He does not love you.”_

_“He does,” she insisted._

_“He drugged you.  And stole from you.”_

_“No he didn’t…”_

_“How many pills did you take?”_

_“I didn’t do pills…I did a line.”_

_“And how do you know how much was there?”_

_Darcy swallowed, unable to answer her._

_“Darcy…” Jane shook her head._

_“Where’s Lukas?”_

_“In jail,” she snapped._

_“What?”_

_“He stole ten thousand dollars from you.  For a drug deal.”_

_“No…he…”_

_“Did you give him your atm card number?”_

_“Yes…but it was just for pizza…he said he was going to go get me some pizza, then we’d go dancing…”_

_A garbled version of the day before was coming back to her.  Lukas, mouthing ‘I love you’ as he left.  Her tilt-a-whirl vision giving way to an overwhelming desire to cool down.  The shower…she’d gotten in the shower and then…went outside…_

_She shook her head abruptly.  Jane was lying.  This wasn’t real._

_“Did you call my dad?”_

_“No.  I didn’t.  You are an adult.  You tell him.”_

_She tried to make sense of what her friend was telling her._

_“Lukas wouldn’t do that.  Tell me where he is.”_

_“In JAIL.  I’ll take you there when they clear you to leave.”_

_“He’s not.  He’s not.  You just…you don’t like him.  You don’t like him because…he keeps me from getting pop tarts for you. He keeps me from being your MAID.”_

_Jane started.  She’d struck a chord.  “You are more than that to me and you know it.  You are my best friend.  I dedicated my Nobel Prize to you.  Because without you it wouldn’t have happened.  You know that.  You were there.  You are so much more to me than Pop tarts and coffee.  And if you can’t…” she snapped her mouth closed, muttering under her breath.  “Paranoia, impulsiveness, aggression…”_

_“What?”_

_“Just reciting the side effects of the poison you snorted.  That’s what this is.  You’ll see.  This will wear off, you’ll detox, and you’ll see.  You’ll understand.”_

_“Whatever…just get me the fuck out of here.”_

_Jane arched an eyebrow and sat back in her chair._

_“Foster.  Come on…” she turned and looked for the nurse call button-remote-thingie, spotting it over on the table beside her.  She turned to grab it, only to have Jane snatch it away._

_“It’s best not to bother them unless it’s an emergency…” Jane smirked and stuffed the cordless remote behind her in the chair._

_“Jane...don’t think I won’t get out of this bed and beat you down.”_

_“Go ahead.”_

_And try as she may…she couldn’t muster up the energy to push past the pain in her joints and muscles to roll out of the bed._

_“Fine.  Hand me my phone.”_

_“It’s dead.”_

_“JANE.”_

_A haughty sniff was her only reply._

* * *

 

**Present**

She collapsed on her couch that evening, looking around her glaringly empty apartment. 

_I cannot believe I miss that annoying asshole so much._

She pulled out her phone and ordered takeout.  Her kitchen was actually clean for once and she didn’t want to mess it up. 

After that, she pried herself up from the cushions to go start a load of laundry. 

She sat down on the couch again to wait for her food to be delivered. 

Her phone rang, she glanced down and nearly dropped it in her haste to answer it. 

“Hello?” 

“Greetings, my _princeza._ ” 

“Piet…what’s…going on?” 

_Lame…god, you’re such a fucking lame ass, Lewis._

“I…missed you?” he sounded almost as surprised to be saying it as she was surprised to be hearing it.

“Oh…me too…missed…YOU…not myself.  That would be…ALMOST as stupid as me explaining myself right now…” 

He laughed, “I…eh…actually meant to surprise you in person…but…as it turns out…Steve has discovered a way to tire me out…and I don’t think I could make the trip tonight…” 

“Really?  What is it?” 

“I ended our training session with…7000 laps around the track?  I am…wiped…I took a shower and…I am holding the phone up to my ear. That’s all I can manage.” 

“You could always put me on speaker…lay it on your pillow beside you.” 

“The dorms aren’t private here…” 

“Ah.  I see…it’s THAT type of call…” she cleared her throat, “You want punishment or heavy breathing?” 

“And THAT is why you are not on speaker…I never know what’s going to come out of that…mouth of yours…” 

“But would you change a thing about me?”

“Not a single thing…” she could hear him smile when he said it. 

She heard a sound that reminded her distinctly of a cat call in the background. 

“Who was that?” 

“Clint.” 

“Who else is there?” 

“Clint, Sam…Vision…Steve will be here soon.” 

“You share a room with 4 other guys?” 

“Yes.” 

“Wow.  It must stink in there.” 

“It smells heavily of…Axe…” 

“Oh…sorry…well…you’ll be back here in 4 days, right?  You can come spend the night with me.  It smells like woman over here, I’m fairly certain.” 

“I look forward to it.” 

She grinned, hearing a knock at the door.  “Oh, there’s my takeout.” 

“You got takeout?  What did you get?” 

“Orange chicken.  And fried rice…and wonton soup.”

“That sounds heavenly.” 

“What did you eat?” 

“I don’t know.  Something. It tasted alright.  It was hot.” 

She took her food from the intern that had brought it up, shutting her door behind her.  She tossed it on the coffee table, where she was setting up camp for the evening. 

“Poor thing.  I’ll cook something for you when you get here too…” 

“You cook?” 

“I’m from Texas.  Of COURSE I cook…I did 100% of the cooking in my house after my mom passed…of course, most of it is Tex-Mex.  I make really good fajitas and tacos…stuff like that. Oh, and lasagna.  My mom had the BEST lasagna recipe.” 

“My mother made _bramboraky_ …and _gulas_ …”

“Goulash?  I’ve had that before…not sure about the other thing…” 

“Potato…cakes?  Pancakes?” 

“Never had those.” 

“They were very good.” 

She heard Steve’s voice booming loudly.  “10 minutes till lights out.” 

“I’m talking to my girlfriend,” Pietro whined. 

Darcy thrilled a little at being called his girlfriend, but the thrill was soon masked by laughter at the other ‘men’ in the background. 

“Your GIRLFRIEND?  OoOoOo!” 

“Shut up, idiots…” he grumbled. 

“How old are they again?”

“Toddlers.  All of them...and I feel I should tell you that Clint and Sam are pretending to make out with each other now…”

“Pics or it didn’t happen…” 

“They stopped.” 

“See?  This is why you don’t disturb the wild animals, Piet.  You rarely get to see them in their natural environment.”

He sighed heavily, “I have to let you go in a few minutes.  Comrade Steve wants us up at 5:30 am tomorrow.” 

“Aww…well…it was sweet of you to call me.” 

“I miss you…I’ll talk to you tomorrow, though?  If that’s okay?” 

“That’s fine…” she paused for a moment.  “You know what we should do?  That whole, ‘you hang up, no YOU hang up’ thing.  It’s really annoying to everyone else who has to listen to it.” 

“Okay…” he chuckled.  “I have to go, _lutko_.  I miss you.  I’ll talk to you soon…” he paused. 

“I miss you too, Piet,” she added. 

“You hang up,” he jabbed playfully. 

“No you…” she simpered, even though no one could hear her. 

“YOU hang up…” he paused, “NO YOU hang up.” 

There was a loud chorus of complaints as well as the thump of what she could only imagine to be pillows.  He bid her goodbye for real. 

“Bye…” she clicked the line closed and smiled to herself, wrapping her arms around her middle and standing up to go get a soda from the fridge. 

She’d never actually had a boyfriend who called her regularly, so this was going to be…very nice… 

Her phone chimed, and she looked down at it.  A text. 

She opened it to an adorably cute selfie from Pietro, which she immediately set as her background and lock screen. 

 _-“Send me one?”_ was the next message.

 “Of course…” she groaned, turning on the lamp and adjusting her glasses and hair. 

And 14 selfies later, she finally got one she could send. 

-“ _Beautiful.”_

 _“Go to sleep, nerd.”_ she responded. 

-“ _;P_ ” 

Better than very nice. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was enjoyable...somewhat. 
> 
> The next chapter is the double dinner date with Wanda and Vision, so be sure to keep an eye out for that. :) 
> 
> Much love! Leave me some comments if you feel so inclined!


	9. That's Amore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which...a crap-ton of stuff happens. Tropey stuff. 
> 
> Pietro has no filter, and Vision eats food, and Wanda is way more understanding than Darcy expected her to be. 
> 
> Thank you to [heyfrenchfreudiana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana) for beta reading this for me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> Ježišmarjá- Jesus Christ (Czech)  
> Kurňa-Fuck (Czech)  
> Princeza-Princess (Serbian)
> 
> Smut at the beginning. This is your warning.

**Pietro**

“Pietro…” she whined, scooting forward on the counter. She ground her hips towards his face, her hands tangled in his hair.

The smell of the lasagna in the oven was starting to waft over, mixing with the heady scent of her sex and ensuring he wasn’t ever going to be able to eat this particular dish without thinking of this precise moment.

Really, that was fine with him.      

He gripped her thighs, licking her clit in slow circles.  He knew she was close. He could tell by the way her voice sounded, but he liked dragging her peak out of her, pulling it so slowly she usually was not making any sense by the end. 

He hummed, turning his attention to her inner thigh, biting and sucking at the skin there, grinning against her when she cursed him. 

“Fuck you…”

“That is the idea…” he teased, looking up at her with wide eyes. 

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it,” she warned.  But her threats weren’t all that scary when half-moaned as he flicked her clit with his tongue. 

This angle was starting to make his back ache, but she was enjoying it so much, he couldn’t stop.  He had been imagining her bare ass on this countertop since she had come over to start dinner.

He’d really tried to pay attention to what Darcy was doing, saying…instructing while she chopped onions and garlic.  While she crushed tomatoes with a fork and assembled the lasagna, layering everything in a dish she’d brought over and finally setting the timer for an hour. 

It had only taken him 7 minutes to convince her of the benefits of his idea.  She could keep an eye on dinner and ride out a slow orgasm on his face. 

Win-win.      

His tongue darted out to flick her again. 

“Fuck…” she gasped, her hips bucking towards him again.   

“Easy now…you still have…ten minutes to go, _Princeza…_ ” he reminded her, glancing at the timer on the stove. 

“I still have to…shower before they…get here…” Darcy panted, trying to frantically pull his face towards her sex. 

“Ten minutes,” he murmured, slowly licking from her opening to her clit. 

She had severely underestimated his ability to keep on task.  He could be VERY focused, given the right motivation.  And as it turned out, her pussy at eye level was one hell of a motivator. 

“Please…please…” her thighs were shaking.  “Fuck…Pietro…come on…” 

“Please what?” he licked her again, just as slowly, feeling the tremors move through her legs when he touched her clit.  “I will not know what you want…” Again.  “If you do not tell me…” 

“Fucking asshole…” she tugged painfully at his hair.  “Please make me come...”  

“Only because you asked so nicely…” he licked her languidly one more time before sucking her swollen clit between his lips and flicking it rapidly with the tip of his tongue.

She let loose a torrent of positively filthy language, her thighs clamping on either side of his head.   

When he felt her peak shudder through her not 30 seconds later, he slowed his pace, bringing her down from the high slowly, dragging out her pleasure as long as he could, until she pushed away. 

He slipped his hands around her waist, gently pulling her down on the floor with him.

He had honestly gone into this wanting it to just be for her, but the sounds she was making had him desperate.  “Is this okay?” he asked, laying her back on the floor.  She nodded quickly, her eyes locked on the bulge in his pants.   

“How do you want me?” he asked, hooking his thumbs in the waist band of his track pants, pulling both them and his underwear down to his thighs.  His dick felt heavy, hard and aching. He wrapped his hand around it, pumping it a few times. 

She rolled over onto her stomach, pushing her hips off the ground, “Just…don’t make a huge mess, Wonder Boy…” 

He reached up on the counter for the condom he’d stashed there earlier, tearing it open and rolling it on. 

He pulled her hips up more, her knees bent as he slid inside her, “ _Ježišmarjá…_ Darcy… _”_

“Pietro…” she blurted, shifting slightly and groaning, pushing up on her hands to give him more friction. 

She slammed back against him with every thrust.  The sound of their flesh smacking together was undoing him. 

“ _Kurňa…_ ” he snapped his hips into her, “Ohhh…Darcy…fuck…”  He leaned forward, gripping her hip with one hand and her shoulder with the other, fucking into her hard and fast.

He didn’t usually think of himself as much of a ‘talker’ in bed.  More of a lip biter…a groaner, maybe?  He talked a LOT everywhere else.  Couldn’t get him to be quiet.  But, in bed, he DID more than he said.   

Which was why it didn’t make sense that he could not fucking shut up when he was inside her. 

Sokovian, English, a weird mix of the two…it didn’t matter.  He waxed poetic about her pussy clenched around him, how wet she was and how he fucking LOVED it.  How she squeezed him so tightly he thought his cock would break off inside her.  (Seriously, who says shit like that?) 

Pietro Maximoff, apparently.  Babbling on and on about how he was so lucky to be buried deep inside her, to be the one who made her moan.  To be the one who got to fuck her. 

Sometimes she responded.  Sometimes she didn’t. But it always seemed to spur her on, her movements would speed up or slow down in response to the ‘sweet’ nothings he murmured into the air.      

Pressure built, his whole lower body felt like it was on fire.  He sped up a little more, causing her moans to come out clipped and short.  Breathy, with a slight lift at the end.

“Christ…Piet…” she panted, spreading her knees a little more. 

She was fucking perfect.

It didn’t take long. It never did with her. Not once he really got going.  Something about the way she moved, or the way she said his name…or both… 

“I am close…” he gasped, “Close…Oh…fuck…” She clenched his cock tightly and his orgasm pulsed white hot from his belly.  He drove through it, and she met him thrust for thrust, her breath hitching in a way that made him wish he hadn’t come yet. 

Whatever it was, the way she moved, or the way she spoke…it usually had him scrambling to please her, because honestly, it just was not polite for the man to finish first.

Technically, she had finished first…on the counter…but he’d have liked to have coaxed another out of her before it was over.   

She did not seem to be complaining, however. 

“Jesus Christ, Piet…you going for a world record or something?” she huffed into the floor. 

Or maybe she was…

He leaned down, curving his spine so he could press a kiss between her shoulder blades.  “I am sorry…I just…eh…cannot really…control THAT…around you.  I have to relearn everything…you feel too good…” 

She pushed forward, dislodging him.  He fought back a groan at the loss. 

“Was it not…good for you?” he asked, feeling more than a little exposed and vulnerable. 

“Oh, God…Piet…that’s not what I meant!” she turned abruptly, leaning up to kiss his lips.  “Of COURSE it was good.  You should get that tongue insured.  It’s Sokovia’s national treasure…” she wiped her thumb across his bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth. “And while we’re on the subject of your MOUTH…I’d like to sign up for some lessons in Sokovian to learn exactly WHAT you were saying about my pussy earlier…”     

He chuckled, blushing a little.  She seemed to be making that happen more and more.

“I mean…I get the general idea…you enjoy my product…but…to what extent is worth knowing.  For…you know…future investments…”

They were interrupted by the kitchen timer. 

She stood, turning off the timer and the oven and looking around for her panties and the slacks she had been wearing, finding them in a pile near the door.  “I mean…you seemed pretty worked up…like…the past few times…well…since last night…was it just because you were gone for 4 days?”

He wanted to tell her that SHE worked him up…SHE turned him on.  And she did not have to do anything at all.  Just the thought of her sometimes…he couldn’t get enough.   

“Yeah…” he said quietly, smiling almost to himself.  “I guess I missed you.” 

She pulled up her pants, smiling thoughtfully.  “Missed you too, Speedy.  Guess I need to give ya more material for your spank bank if I want to be able to walk next week…” she winked as she buttoned her jeans. 

Pietro was about to ask what a spank bank was, but context clues filled him in sufficiently. 

And if he was being honest, she’d given him plenty the night before he left.  

She had her pants up and zipped and was cleaning the countertop with spray disinfectant. And he was still staring at her with his dick out, so he quickly stood and ran back to the bathroom to wash up.

Wanda and her…robot would be here soon, and he HAD cut into Darcy’s cooking time, so he went back out to the kitchen to see if he could help.  She was really nervous for some reason, bouncing around ALMOST more than he did.  She had told him MULTIPLE times how important it was that Wanda like her. 

He did not see the issue.  Wanda would like her.  She already sort of did.  There was no question.

“Can I help?”

“YES.  I need to go shower really fast and dry my hair, can you make the salad?” 

The vegetables were already out on the counter, so he grabbed the lettuce and picked up the knife she had lying beside the cutting board. 

“TEAR the lettuce…” 

He frowned. Chopping it would be faster. 

“You have to tear each leaf or it will oxidize.  You’ve made a salad before, right?” 

“Of course.  It’s all we ate in the orphanage.  Salads are peasant food in Sokovia,” he quipped.  “I will never forget being homeless…and stumbling to get into line at the SALAD kitchen…” 

She blinked once, her face a blank mask.  “So that’s a NO…right?” 

“Correct,” he answered smugly.

“Smart ass…You tear the lettuce, it’s already washed.  You peel the cucumber and slice it.  You can throw these tomatoes in whole, but you need to slice this bell pepper.  Then you just toss it all together in the bowl with the dressing.  I already made that, it’s in the bowl, just…throw everything in there and toss it with the tongs…nothing fancy.  And I’ll make the garlic bread when they get here.”  She leaned up to kiss his cheek.  “Can’t really screw anything up, just make sure it stays in the bowl and off the floor.”

She ran off to the bathroom, leaving him there with the vegetables. 

And when she emerged a half hour later, to see him finishing the salad with his hand wrapped in a towel, she laughed. 

“Tried to chop too quickly?” 

“Yes.  BUT, I made the salad, and I got NO blood on anything.” 

“Can I see it?”

He gestured to the bowl in front of him. 

“No, dummy…your hand…” she led him back to the bathroom, unwrapping the towel and gingerly looking at the cut.  It was a clean slice across his index fingertip. 

She touched him softly, as if she were worried she’d hurt him. Her brow furrowed when she saw the blood on the towel.    

She rinsed his hand under the water, washed it out with soap and bandaged it. Quite the feat with him protesting the entire time. 

“It’s not that bad…” he scoffed.    

“It could get gangrenous and fall off…” 

“I doubt that.” 

“I don’t.”

“Are you worried about me?” he asked, preening slightly. 

She snorted, “NO.  This is just my favorite hand…” she arched an eyebrow knowingly.  “This is the MAGIC hand.” 

“I’m just as good with the other one…” he countered. 

“Eh…” She shrugged as she exited the bathroom.

As they were emerging, there was a knock at the door.   She looked up at him, her eyes wide.  “I do not have my face on yet.  And zombie chic is NOT the statement I want to make.” 

He scoffed, “You look beautiful no matter what you do.  And Wanda does not care.  Neither does the robot.” 

That earned him a kiss on the lips.

“Stop it,” she insisted, turning back to the bathroom.  “Stop being so perfect, Pietro.” 

He made a face, shaking his head.  “I am not perfect.  I am telling the truth.” 

“Seriously…STOP.”

_Why?_

He ran over to answer the door. 

His sister and the robot were standing there patiently. 

“Hello Wanda…” he leaned over to hug and kiss her, nodding at her companion.  “And…you.” 

“Where is Darcy?” asked Wanda, looking around the living room.   

“She is…eh…” he gestured to his face, “Putting her…cosmetics…on.” 

“What happened to your hand?” she asked, reaching for his gauze wrapped index finger. She paused, “Oh…you did not get any blood in the salad, did you?” 

“Get out of my head, Wanda…” Pietro said, cocking an eyebrow.  “Curiosity killed the cat.” 

“There is nothing in your head that would—Oh…good grief, Pietro…” she looked positively scandalized, “You did…THAT…in the kitchen?” 

He grinned smugly and shrugged, walking back into the kitchen.

“You washed everything, right?”

He turned to glare at her, “Of course.” 

* * *

 

**Darcy**

Her hand shook as she hastily applied makeup and tried to clear her mind.  She had to wipe off her eyeliner three times to avoid looking like she was three sheets to the wind.

Pietro didn’t understand why she was so nervous, and she could hardly explain it to him. 

Other than the obvious, of course.  Wanda was his sister.  His TWIN sister.  Who had grown up with him all his life.  They had taken care of each other.  And…if Wanda didn’t like her…she assumed it was safe to say this was over. 

But BESIDES that, Wanda could freaking READ MINDS.  Or…something like that.  She could see what you were thinking…or…

Okay, so Darcy didn’t know EXACTLY how Wanda’s powers worked.  But, she couldn’t really ask either. 

_So…Pietro…if someone was trying to HIDE something from your sister, how would you do it?_

Because she was doing exactly that.  Trying to hide something from his sister. 

JUST until she talked to Piet about it though.  She hadn’t ACTUALLY done anything wrong, right?  She hadn’t realized how serious things really were until the previous week.  So…it’s okay that she didn’t tell him. 

_Maybe Wanda’s powers work like a lie detector test.  Maybe if I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, she won’t notice I was hiding something._

Which was a fine theory.  If Darcy didn’t feel just a little bit guilty for not talking to Pietro yet. 

They’d had sex FIVE times since he’d returned the previous night.  Five times and she didn’t find a tiny little window of time to talk about her unfortunate past. 

It wasn’t like she was scared of telling him or anything. 

Except she was.

She wasn’t 100% sure that he’d be understanding. 

Because…it was something he’d have a right to misunderstand, right? 

Drug dealer ex…that she’d kind of been in love with…

Kind of…she was head over heels for that stupid asshole.  And he’d fucking used her up and left her to die.  Literally. 

But she wasn’t bitter. 

And there was the little detail having to do with her own drug use.  Not her brightest moment.

Her eyes welled up suddenly, never dripping, but welling enough to dislodge most of the work she’d just done on her eyes. 

She groaned and grabbed for a tissue again, wiping off her eyeliner for the fourth time. 

She gave it up, winged eyeliner wasn’t happening.  And she wasn’t even going to TRY to explain to herself why she had teared up just then. 

_Fucking…hell._

_He called me his girlfriend.  So that means SOMETHING, right?  We’re SOMETHING to each other._

_-And Tony made a valid point, Lewis.  He has some skeletons in his closet too.  He probably WON’T judge you…right?_

And just like always, when she stumbled down this weird path, she shrugged it off and resolved to chill. 

Her inability to chill had come up to bite her before, so…until the future when a talk about what they were to each other happened, she should just sit back and enjoy the ride. 

And it was one hell of a ride. 

Satisfied that her makeup was somewhat decent IF lacking in eyeliner of the winged variety, she exited the bathroom. 

He was already talking to them, standing by the door. He glanced back at her and smiled that smile that could melt her heart or her panties depending on the situation. 

This was definitely a situation for the former. But she could swing for the latter…maybe after they left.  Go for six times in a 24 hour period.    

 _Oh…fuck I have it BAD for him._  

She returned the smile the best she could and approached them, trying to think of SOMETHING, anything to say…

Vision looked exactly the same, so nothing to comment on there.

Hell, she never knew what to say to him. 

_Oil can?  If you only had a heart?_

_-Pretty sure that’s completely derogatory, Darce._

Wanda, though…she had on a really cute sweater/tunic thing.  Black.  Like most of her clothing. But who was Darcy to judge?  She stiffly maintained that yoga pants were appropriate work attire when it was laundry day or whenever her PMS was particularly bad.  Or whenever she fucking felt like wearing them. 

So that was something.  _What a cute sweater, Wanda!  You are fucking adorable!_

She smiled, mostly fake, because she felt like throwing up, but hopefully it was believable.  “Hey guys! Glad you made it!” 

And Wanda greeted her jovially with a hug.  An awkward hug because it didn’t appear that either of them was particularly touchy feely.  But it was a nice gesture, nonetheless.  Relaxed her a little. 

And Vision. That smooth bastard. 

She held out her hand to shake, and Vision took her proffered hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles as he greeted her. 

And of course, she giggled, glancing up at Pietro, who simply rolled his eyes in an annoyed, but placating way.

So he really needed to get the bug out of his ass regarding Vision.  But that was a problem for another day.

Wanda immediately made her way out to the kitchen, asking if Darcy needed any help. She turned back to glare at her brother, jerking her chin towards where Vision had floated across the room. 

Pietro pouted for a moment, but went where she directed him. 

She muttered under her breath. 

“What did you call him?” asked Darcy, her curiosity peaking. 

Wanda chuckled, “A…eh…little idiot.” 

“How do you say it?” 

“ _Blbecek._ ” She answered, slowing it down for Darcy.

“Bulbacheck?”

“BLLL-ba-chek.” 

“Blbecek.” 

“Yes. Very good.” 

“That’s…just in case…I mean…I don’t make it a habit to insult Piet…” 

Wanda snorted, “Darcy. You are a saint.”

“Only on Sundays…” 

She laughed, “What do you need help with?” 

“Umm…just the garlic bread…” 

“Show me what to do, I have never made it.” 

And so, in the amount of time it took her to show Wanda how to make garlic bread, she had relaxed, easing into a friendly rapport.  So relaxed that she let her guard down. 

And then, it happened.  A vague thought.  A rogue thought that involved a certain green-bearded merman.  And it came unbidden.  And she hadn’t meant to think it.  But there it was. 

And she snapped the thought back up as soon as she had it, but Wanda noticed.  Darcy felt her stiffen. 

“Darcy…you are allowed to have secrets…” she said quietly. 

She felt her heart beat in her finger tips, her hand shaking as she sprinkled parmesan cheese over the buttered bread. 

“And you are allowed to keep things from Pietro.  I am not going to ‘sink your ship’ simply because you wish to keep things to yourself.” 

She turned on the broiler, removing the warm lasagna from the oven. 

“It’s worse than that, though…” Darcy felt the flood of memories, everything from Iceland, wash over her at once. She hoped it wasn’t too much for Wanda.

The way Lukas had looked when she met him at that rave.  Surrounded by girls, the life of the party. 

Their short relationship in fast forward…the first time she tried mollies, the first time she woke up somewhere and had no clue where she was…

The bad trip, ending up in the hospital…

The fucking emotional whiplash that resulted from being jerked around by a drug dealer for 2 months.   

“I don’t know if I can tell him.” 

Wanda’s hand squeezed her shoulder briefly.  And THAT was honestly the most comforting thing someone had said about the entire ordeal.  It was refreshing not to get a lecture or get made fun of.  (Jane and Tony respectively).

“Darcy, I do not pretend to be…an expert on my brother.  But…you live with someone for your whole life…you pick up a few things,” she shrugged.  “And…I know enough about him…to be able to tell you with confidence…that he would never judge someone for their mistakes.  Especially someone he cares about.” 

Darcy blushed, turning away to stick the bread under the broiler.  She cracked the oven door to watch.

“And I think you know that he does.  He might not speak about it…but he does.” 

She bit her lip, keeping her gaze on the bread to make sure it didn’t burn.  “I…um…I care about him too.” 

“I know,” she could hear Wanda smiling when she said it. 

There were a few minutes of silence, but it wasn’t awkward at all.  Honestly, Darcy thought she might like hanging out with Wanda more in the future.  She was a little weird, yes…but no more than herself. No more than anyone, really.   

“So…” Darcy grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the bread out of the oven.  “I really like your sweater/tunic/dress thing.  Really cute.” 

Wanda’s face lit up, “Really?  It’s new…I got it at uh…Saks?”

“You went to Saks?” 

Darcy began slicing up the bread and placing it in a bowl, since a single guy living by himself apparently didn’t have a bread basket.  Whatever.

“Yes…but never again.  All the sales women were so…judgmental?”

“Ugh.  Yeah.  Don’t even NEED to read minds to know what they’re thinking.” 

“Right?  I was also shopping by myself so…that was a mistake.” 

“Oh, well…you know…next time I go, you should come with me.  Because…Jane hates shopping for clothes.  And I bet you’d really like this boho boutique I found last time I went. I mean…not claiming to know you or anything, but they sell like…tunic dresses and leggings and really cute tops…and it’s never as crowded as the department stores or anything.” 

“I would love to go with you!” Wanda smiled widely.  

Like really, she really wasn’t all that weird. 

“Thank you!”

Darcy wasn’t sure if Wanda had heard her thought or was just continuing their conversation.  But, she supposed it didn’t matter. 

Dinner was good.  Pietro and Vision seemed to have made some kind of headway.  Or something.  She wasn’t sure. 

Vision actually…ATE food.  Which was strange.  She didn’t know that he…did that. 

It occurred to her that maybe he did it to make it less weird for them, but…she didn’t know.  It was almost more disconcerting to see an android shoveling in her Mom’s recipe for lasagna and spearing cherry tomatoes out of his salad first before eating anything else. 

And Pietro ate like he hadn’t in years. Like he wasn’t snacking on something an hour before. 

And everything was going just fine.  One might even say it was going perfectly. 

And then…

Just as she stood to start clearing dishes, Pietro jumped up and did it for her, zipping around and leaving all the plates and silverware in the sink before slinking his arms around her waist and embracing her from behind. 

“She was so worried about this, you know?” he rested his head on the top of hers.

“She did mention it…” Wanda smirked knowingly.  “She had nothing to worry about.”  

“Piet…” Darcy protested.

“What?  You were!  I told you that Wanda would love you.”  He released her, pulling out her chair for her to sit down.  “I mean…I love you, so of course Wanda would love you…” and he continued talking, but Darcy would not be able to remember what he said.  Even if her life depended on it. 

Because…

_Whaaaaaa?  Did he just?  What?  I misheard him.  I must have misheard him._

A quick glance around at Wanda’s wide eyes and mouth agape told her that she hadn’t. 

_Oh God.  Oh God, he loves me?  He LOVES ME?  How?  How?  HOW?_

Her mouth felt dry and scratchy, so she grabbed her wine glass from in front of her and downed the rest of the wine in it.  Which wasn’t much.  The bottle was there.  In front of her. 

“Anybody else want more wine?” she asked, scooting the bottle towards herself.  “No?  Awesome.” 

And she threw that sucker back, gulping it down as fast as she could while she walked out to the kitchen. 

_Fuck me.  How did this happen?_

She released the bottle with a pop, feeling a little sick all of a sudden. 

_It’s so fucking HOT in here…_

She had a tank top on underneath, so she pulled her sweater off over her head, the bulk of the alcohol choosing that moment to hit her, of fucking course.  So she stumbled, and felt his hands on her waist, and then helping her pull off her sweater. 

She stood there, staring at him, searching his face for something. 

“What the FUCK, Maximoff?” 

“What?  What did I do?” 

“You don’t KNOW?” 

“No, that’s why I asked…” he said pointedly. 

“You LOVE me?” 

“What?” 

“You LOVE me?  You LOVE ME?” 

“What?” 

“STOP saying that.” 

“Darcy…I don’t know what—“

“I have witnesses!” she pointed out to the dining area, where their increasingly uncomfortable guests still sat. 

He turned, a quizzical look on his face.  Wanda nodded adamantly, while Vision busied himself by staring at the tabletop.

“Did I say that?” he asked, turning back to Darcy. 

“YES.  YES.  You said that you love me.  And then…you forgot…or…” 

“No, I just…I didn’t realize I said it out loud.” 

“Didn’t realize you said it out loud…which implies that you’ve been…THINKING it for a while…” 

“Not a while…I did not sit down one day and think…’I love Darcy’, I think that’s the first time it consciously crossed my mind. 

“And you chose to BLURT IT OUT in front of your sister and her…her…” 

“Boyfriend…” he supplied. 

She poked him square in the chest, raising up on her toes to do so, “ _Blbecek!_ ” she articulated, cocking an eyebrow. 

“How do you know that word?” 

“Your SISTER taught me…but it’s not enough.  You’re not just an idiot…you’re…a…what is he, Wanda?” 

Wanda bit her lip and looked down, so Darcy rounded on Pietro again.  “Inconsiderate MANBOY…however you say that in whatever the hell language you speak.” 

She turned to stalk over to the fridge, pulling the boxed Tiramisu off the bottom shelf. 

She plopped it down in front of Wanda and Vision, “Here.  You guys.  Stay.  Eat this…” she turned back to Pietro, “You.  Bedroom.  Now.” 

She felt his hands around her waist and felt the air whipping past them as they suddenly appeared in the bedroom, he turned to shut the door, looking back at her in complete bewilderment. 

“What is wrong?” he asked. 

“WHAT is wrong?  What is wrong?  You….you…you LOVE me?  How? How?  How do you love me?” 

“How do I love you?  Let me count the ways?” he grinned. 

She simply stared at him, unblinking.  “Why?” 

“Because…you are…you.  How could I not?” 

“Pietro…I…don’t know what to think about this…I mean…we haven’t even talked about what kind of relationship this is…so I’m a little bit…blindsided here…” 

“What do you mean, what kind?”

“There are casual relationships, which I thought this was…open relationships, which I knew this wasn’t…and SERIOUS relationships, which I now know this is…”

He shrugged, “Yes…I suppose it IS serious.” 

She stared open-mouthed at him.  “Okay…okay…okay…what you are telling me right now…is that…you actually LOVE me.  Not in a…’love ya bro’ kind of way, but in a…real…Notebook-y kind of way.” 

“Yes. I love you,” his mouth twitched up a little when he said it, like he was trying a new food and liked the way it tasted. 

“Okay…well…I have…QUESTIONS for you then.” 

“Okay…” 

“What if I don’t love you?  Hmm?  What then?” 

“Well…that’s alright.  You are right…I sprung this on you…so…that’s fine.” 

“You’re fine with me not loving you?”

“Yes.  I do not want…to rush you.  You…take your time.  Take a few days…”

“DAYS?” 

“Or weeks...or months.  Take whatever time you need.  Within reason.” 

“Define REASON,” she demanded. 

He pursed his lips, “10 years…I mean…I would think you would know if I was...at least…eh…GROWING on you in 10 years.” 

“In 10 years, you WILL be growing on me.  As in attached to my side…” 

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“That depends…” 

“On what?” 

“On if you actually mean it when you say you want to give me time.” 

“Darcy…” he sat down on the bed.  “I will not bring up this up again.  Ever.  You choose the….when and the…how we talk about this.  Is that good?  Does that make you feel better?”

He looked…scared.  Actually scared…terrified.  Of…his feelings?  Of hers?    

She could feel herself melting a little.  She would have to be a cold, heartless ice queen to stay angry at a man who looked like that and talked like that and felt like that…

_He loves me?  And I didn’t even have to do anything?  He just…DOES?  How is that fair?_

_-You have to tell him tonight, Lewis.  He loves you, he definitely deserves to know._

She took a few steps forward, stepping between his knees, her hands carding through his hair.  His hands moved up the back of her thighs, up to pause, cupping her rear.  “Keep movin’, Partner…” she teased, leaning down to kiss him.  Capture those perfect lips.  Those wonderful lips that said such wonderful things, regardless of how undeserving she was of those things. 

He chuckled, she swallowed the sound, and he squeezed her ass once before moving up to her waist. 

“My sister is here…” he reminded her when she released his lips several seconds later. 

“Okay…put that on hold…” she released his hair and stepped back away from him.  “I’ll be out there to join you in just a minute…I have to check my phone…make sure Jane hasn’t been texting me all evening or something.” 

He stood, adjusted himself, pecked her cheek and was gone, a blue streak out the door. 

She walked around the bed to his side table, where she had her phone charging. 

5 new messages. 

_Uh oh…Jane needs me…figures.  I was about to get some good lovin’…_

_-As opposed to what?  All the mediocre loving he’s been giving you?  Miss-I-know-exactly-how-many-orgasms-is-my-limit?_

But upon opening the texts…all from a number she didn’t recognize, she sat down hard on the bed. 

_How?_

_-“Hey Darcy…this is Lukas…new number…call me.”_

_Why now?_

_-“Babe…where are you?  I can swing by…”_

_-“Or you can swing by…Beacon, Room 338.”_

_-“Darcy…please? Ily.”_

“Oh…fuck me…” she shook her head.  “No...” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh...don't be mad...please? 
> 
> I love happy endings, but I also love angst...it's a terrible conundrum I find myself in regularly.


	10. I Did A Bad, Bad Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy does a stupid, stupid thing.  
> Stupid, Stupid, Stupid.  
> Like the worst thing she could possibly do. 
> 
> And Pietro doesn't handle it all that well...because he's Pietro and his emotions (and his feet) run faster than his brain sometimes. 
> 
> And Sam and Clint are just trying to damage control. 
> 
> More Lukas. Idiot though he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Horchata, Vampire Weekend. 
> 
> -With lips and teeth to ask how my day went,  
> -Boots and fists to pound on the pavement,  
> -Here comes a feeling you thought you'd forgotten  
> -Chairs to sit and sidewalks to walk on.
> 
> Special thanks to [heyfrenchfreudiana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana) for beta reading this and brainstorming and being an all around awesome person for putting up with all my whining for the past few days. <3

**Darcy**

_Why the fuck are you doing this?_ She mentally berated herself as she walked down the sidewalk towards the coffee shop. 

_Why??? Pietro said he loved you.  HE TOLD YOU LAST NIGHT.  And you’re running off to meet a fucking…sociopath for coffee.  A fugitive sociopath.  What the fuck is your problem, Lewis?_

She set her jaw and pressed forward. 

_Because closure.  That’s why._

_-You could have had closure AND told your boyfriend what was up._

She tried to force that little detail from her mind as she pushed open the door, scanning the shop for an empty table.  She froze, her stomach hardening into a brick of nerves. 

He was already here. 

His beard was shorter…still lime green, though.  He’d lost weight…but his arms were bigger, more muscular. 

Not anywhere close to Pietro, but it was still a change from what she remembered. 

_That’s PRISON.  He was probably…like…working out or something.  In PRISON._

His dark eyes met hers and the corners crinkled as he smiled, waving her over. 

_Last chance.  You could just leave.  Or call the cops.  Or call Tony.  Call Pietro.  Do something.  ANYTHING._

She gulped and gripped her bag more tightly as she stepped forward, walking up to the table. 

Lukas stood, pulling out her chair for her, still smiling like he could barely believe she was here. 

She could barely believe it herself. 

“I was worried you would not come…” his accent was thick, but his grasp of English was a little better than Pietro’s, “But here you are…it’s so good to see you, Dar—“ 

“What do you want?” she cut him off.  She wasn’t going to give him time to trap her.  He was a fucking spider and she was the fly.  But the fly was smarter this time around. 

“You are angry?” he knit his brow.  “What have I done to upset you, my love _?”_

“DON’T call me that…” she hissed, trying not to draw attention to them.  “I am NOT your love and I never was…and I never will be so just…fucking…lay off with the fucking pet names, capiche?”

He raised his hands in surrender, “I apologize. I simply do not understand what happened, Darcy…it’s been four months with no word from you…I had no way of knowing if you were alright, or why you left me…or WHY you turned me in…”  he trailed off, his mouth drooping slightly into a pout, but those eyes…they were cool, cold even.  Collected. A little scary now that she was looking.  “I want you to know that I forgive you…I don’t blame you for doing what you had to…”

_He has the crazy eyes, Darce.  You should have seen that before…_

“I didn’t turn you in. Even though I SHOULD have…It was my employer…” she smirked when her eyes ran over his now crooked nose.  “I think you remember him…” 

He cocked an eyebrow, “Yes…I’m very well acquainted with Mr. Stark…”

“Good…” she folded her arms and sat back. 

He changed tactics.  “What did I DO, Darcy?” he whispered, forcing her to lean forward to hear him.  “What have I done that has caused you to stop loving me?” 

She snorted, “Dude…you left me to die.  You drugged me up and left me to die and—“ 

“Darcy…Dear Heart…those weren’t meant for you, I am…SO SORRY that you took them.  I cannot tell you how distressed and worried I was when I found out…”

 _Oh COME on…_  

“Distressed?  You were distressed?  I was hospitalized for 3 days.  And that’s not even half of it, Mister.  You STOLE ten thousand dollars from me!  Remember that?” 

“I was going to pay you back, that was ALWAYS my intention…and love, if I had not been arrested, I would have been there beside you, loving you and worrying about you until you were released.” 

“If you hadn’t been arrested, I WOULD HAVE.  They were trying to charge me with felony drug trafficking, Lukas!” 

He scoffed, “I would have gotten you out of it.  I would have taken care of you.  I always said I would.” 

“How?  How would you have gotten me out of it?  Those are FELONY charges, it would have RUINED me! Which reminds me…how the FUCK are you here?  Last I heard, you were locked up tight.” 

He shrugged, “Where there is a will, there is a way.  Especially if the will is mine.”

 _That sounded only slightly threatening…_  

“What did you do?  Hop the fence?” 

“There are no prison fences in Iceland.  No walls.  It is relatively easy to escape if you know how.” 

“What do you MEAN there aren’t walls or fences?  Did you just…WALK OUT?” 

“No, of course not.  The guards would have caught me and walked me back in.” 

She shook her head in confusion. 

“I had a boat…” 

“So you fucking ROWED HERE?” 

“No…I rowed to a bigger island…and stowed away in a freight liner…got here, now I’m just trying to build my stocks up…” he grinned.  “I will…there is such a more diverse and large customer base here.  I’ll be able to provide for you…a nice little apartment in Brooklyn…just like you always wanted, remember?” 

She shook her head. 

“A nice little apartment…a man to come home to…freedom to do what you want with your life…are you still working with the scientist?  Fetching her coffee?” he tilted his head sympathetically.

“A nice little apartment, where you can drug me up and keep me as your little sex slave, right?” 

“Darcy…” he reached for her hand, which she jerked away. 

“Fuck you…” she seethed, “Just…fuck you.” 

A look of realization passed over his face, and he sat back, folding his arms.  “You’ve met someone else?” 

She repressed the urge to say yes.  The urge to tell him how fucking good Pietro was.  How sweet and wonderful.  How he loved her for being herself.  And how fucking HAPPY he made her. 

And how EASY it was to be with him. 

Lukas grabbed her hand, “Is he good to you?  Good FOR you? Can he keep up with you, Darcy?” 

She snorted at the irony of his statement, pulling her hand away.  She couldn’t fight the urge to reply any longer. “He holds his own.”  She glanced down at her phone, checking the time. 

Lukas reached over to turn the phone towards him, looking at the picture of Pietro on her lock screen. 

She’d honestly forgotten how entitled he felt he was to every bit of information.

“This is him…” he stated, not really a question.  He shrugged, making a non-committal noise before becoming particularly interested in something out the window behind her. 

She started to turn, but he had grabbed her hand again, stroking it with his thumb.  “Does he love you?” 

“Yes.”  She slid her hand away.  Making a scene wasn’t something she wanted.    

“Do you love him?”

She opened her mouth but he cut her off. 

“Of course you do,” he smiled tightly.  “How could you not, when he is so obviously in love with you?”

 _Something about the way he said that…_  

Now that her head was clear, it was blatantly apparent that her attraction to Lukas had been artificial.  She felt nothing but contempt for him. 

She pulled her bag up higher on her shoulder. “I need to go…I…I can give you the time it takes me to walk back to work…and then I’m telling my boss where you are.” 

He looked hurt, but nodded. “Of course.” 

She stood at the same time he did and he cut her off from leaving by wrapping his arms around her. He was acting weird.  All this PDA wasn’t his style at all.  She stood there, her arms out to the sides, before pushing him back and off her, ready to tell him to have a nice life and high-tail it out of there.  High-tail it and call Pietro on her way out.  Find him, and tell him everything, because she felt completely icky being here without him knowing. 

“Darcy…” a familiar voice spoke right behind her. So fucking familiar.  Painfully familiar.

 _Oh God, why?_    

Lukas hopped backwards, stumbling into his chair.  He’d probably seen Pietro run up.  That was always disconcerting the first time. 

She turned and looked up into Pietro’s eyes, which were flitting back and forth between Lukas and her.

“Pietro…I can explain…” 

* * *

 

**Pietro**

He walked down the sidewalk between Clint and Sam, drumming his hands on the sides of his legs. 

Good God, they were slow. 

He huffed slightly. 

“You have to learn to walk slowly when you’re around civilians…” Sam chastised.  “You can’t just zip around wherever you want.” 

He made an indiscriminate noise. 

“What do you do with Darcy?  I know for a fact she wouldn’t put up with you doing this.  Her annoying bullshit threshold is remarkably low.” 

Pietro shrugged, smirking, “I will slow down for her.” 

Clint groaned, “GROSS.” 

“I did not mean SEX, you pervert.  I just meant…in general.  I will slow down for her.” 

“Still gross.  That was borderline cuteness, and I do NOT appreciate that.” 

He scoffed, ignoring him, “Where are we going?  Did either of you old men decide where you want to eat?” 

“We’re close by, we should just go to that coffee place Darcy likes…they have food there, right?” Sam asked, walking a little bit faster. 

Pietro smiled, “Yes…they do…” 

“Damn.  It’s autumn.  They have apple fritters, don’t they?” 

“They have pumpkin ones too.” 

“Fuckin’ A.  We’re going there.” 

“What coffee place is this? Why don’t I know about it?” Clint asked, speeding up a little to match their pace. 

“Darcy hasn’t taken you there?” asked Sam, shaking his head.  “She must not like you as much as she likes us…” he glanced over at Pietro. 

He didn’t really like being lumped together with anyone when it came to Darcy, because he’d hope that she liked him at least a little more than the Falcon. 

But, propriety was key, as Wanda was so fond of reminding him. 

“Level 3 Friendship clearance…” he offered, grinning smugly. 

“Or…you know…rattle her headboard so loudly it wakes up her neighbor at two in the morning…” Clint grumbled. 

“Sorry, not sorry…”

“There it is up there,” Sam pointed. 

“That one…with the big glass windows?” asked Clint, stopping in his tracks. 

“Yeah, that’s the one…”  Sam stopped too, so Pietro came to a grudging halt. 

“Uh…maybe we should go somewhere else…Darcy might not appreciate it if you shared her coffee place without permission…” he rapidly signed something at Sam, who signed back in response. 

Pietro cursed the fact that he still hadn’t learned any ASL other than ‘go’, ‘stop’, and ‘quiet’. 

“I can see you.  I know you’re saying something that you don’t want me to know…” he looked back and forth between them. 

“Nah…just telling Sam what I got you for Christmas.”

“I’m sure,” he rolled his eyes.  “I’m going.  I really want a pumpkin fritter now.” 

He was stopped by a hand on each shoulder.  “Wait a second, Kid…” 

He shook their hands off their shoulders and zipped up to the front of the coffee shop.  Fuck them and their rules.  He scanned the front window for the menu board to check and make sure they had pumpkin fritters before he went inside.  Seated directly on the other side of the glass was…

“Darcy?” he said aloud, as Sam and Clint caught up to him. 

She was sitting with a lanky, tall man with a…green beard? 

“Why is she here?  I thought she had work this—“

The man caressed her hand, squeezing it, and Pietro felt his skin start to warm up.  Heat up. 

He set his jaw.  “Who the fuck is that?” 

“You don’t…know?” Clint started, but Sam shushed him. 

“That’s something you should take up with Darcy before you jump to conclusions, Piet.” 

“Don’t call me that…” he snarled.  “And how can I not jump to conclusions when he’s…FONDLING MY GIRLFRIEND?” 

Darcy and Green Beard had stood and were embracing and Pietro could SWEAR the other man was taunting him.  He fucking made eye contact with him twice. 

He shook both Sam’s and Clint’s arms off him and zipped inside, stopping right behind her. 

And this close to her, close enough to smell her, to touch her…his anger waned and was replaced with something he didn’t like any better. 

“Darcy?” he asked quietly, full of desperation. 

She jumped, startled, and turned to face him, her mouth open, “Pietro…I can explain…” 

“Who is he?” he demanded, eying the other man again, who had fallen back into his chair momentarily, but was scrambling to stand again.  He was almost as tall as Pietro, but not quite.    

Green Beard stood, blinking a few times to calm his features and extended his hand.  “Lukas Jonsson,” he said quietly. 

He could tell that, like himself, English wasn’t his first language. 

Pietro exhaled forcefully, glaring at his hand and his audacity. 

“Drop your hand if you want to keep it,” Darcy hissed.  “Now get the fuck out…” 

Lukas straightened, puffing out his chest a little, “Are you sure?  I don’t want to leave you with him if he might—“ 

“Might WHAT?” Pietro snarled. “What are you suggesting, _skote_?”   

“Get the fuck out of here, Lukas,” Darcy rolled her eyes and shrugged away from the hand he tried to place on her shoulder.  “Just go.”

Green Beard seemed to have SOME common sense, because he did just that.  He got the fuck out of there. 

Pietro stared at Darcy for a few seconds before she spoke. 

“Pietro…can we go?  We shouldn’t talk about this here…” 

“No…we shouldn’t.  But I need to know what’s going on…the quicker the better.” 

“I really don’t want to talk about this here.  I’d rather if we were alone.” 

He pulled out a chair and sat down jarringly.  “We are.” 

She looked around nervously. 

He kicked the chair opposite him away from the table.  She took it and sat down, letting her bag slide to the floor.  She kept her knees tight together, bouncing both her legs. 

She chewed on her lip for a moment before beginning.  “Lukas and I used to date…back when I was in Iceland with Jane…” 

He felt that same feeling well up again.  Jealousy? 

Rationally, he knew he shouldn’t feel that way.  Darcy wasn’t HIS.  She certainly had a right to her past.  He had one. 

The difference was, he was forthright about his.  She had obviously hidden this from him. 

“We dated for about two months…and I did some things while I was with him that I’m not too proud of…um…” 

He frowned. 

“He’s a drug dealer…pot, coke, meth, ecstasy…LSD…you name it. He either sells it or can direct you to someone who does…” she stared down at her hands. 

“A drug dealer?” he asked, in disbelief that she’d date someone like that. 

She nodded. 

“Did you…” he started to ask the question, but trailed off because he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. 

“Use?  Yes.  Um…MDMA…mollies…mostly...and they’re highly addictive so…” 

“So…what? You were addicted?” 

“No, I didn’t become addicted…but I used them a lot while I was with him.  Um…he wasn’t the BEST influence…but…this one time…he gave me some…and didn’t tell me that they were laced with something else…LSD…and…I didn’t have the best reaction…I took a shower with all my clothes on and went outside.  It was really cold…and I was found hours later in an alley…I spent 3 days in the hospital…” 

“So this jerk gave you bad drugs and put you in the hospital and—“

_And what the fuck else did he do to you?_

“Let me finish…” 

“Oh.  There is more.  By all means…” he waved his hand indignantly.

“While I was drugged, he stole ten grand from my checking account and used it for a drug deal.  Tony had to fly up and save my sorry ass because the cops there wanted to charge ME with trafficking since the money came from my account.  He had to get me out of the charges AND find Lukas so they could arrest him.  He was put in prison.  The only reason he’s here is that he escaped.  And now you know…everything.  There’s nothing you don’t know about this situation.  And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide and watery. 

He set his jaw and played with a napkin on the table.  “No…I don’t think I do know everything…because…I do not know why you are meeting…your fugitive ex-boyfriend…in secret…for coffee and donuts…” 

She faltered, looking down again. 

“So…besides…THAT…I know everything.  EVERYTHING?  There isn’t ANYTHING else you want to tell me?  Were you living together?  Did you love him?” 

She pressed her lips together.  “Piet…” 

He felt cold and then hot and then clammy.  She did.  She loved him.  She loved the fucking drug dealer.  Fuck. 

“Piet…I did, I don’t anymore.” 

He laughed coldly.  “Well that certainly will keep me warm at night…” 

“Pietro…” 

He shook his head.  “You loved HIM?  You loved him and you can’t love me?” 

It was petty.  He knew that.  But he was fucking furious.

“That’s not fair! I can love you.  I just don’t yet and I can’t force myself to.” 

“But him?  With the green beard?  The drugs and the…THEFT?  He put you in the hospital?  Him, you loved? How is THAT fair?” 

“Calm down please…” she grabbed his hands, squeezing tightly.  “I don’t love him anymore.  I was stupid for loving him. It wasn’t real…he…was manipulative and…I care about YOU.  I want to be with YOU.  YOU are the best I’ve ever had, Pietro.” 

“The best WHAT?” he asked, standing up, his voice getting louder and he couldn’t control it.  “The best…date?  The best…fuck?  The best WHAT, Darcy?”

“Just…the best…Piet, people are staring…”

“LET them…tell me what I’m the best at, Darcy…” 

“I don’t…know what you want me to say…you’re just…” 

Honestly, he didn’t know either.  All he knew was that things were starting to creep past him at a snail’s pace and he had to leave.  He couldn’t handle the intensity of this right now.  He needed to take a break…a breather, and come back when he could talk to her.  Now was not that time.  He was going to say something stupid.   

“I can’t…” he shook his head, “I can’t do this…” and he turned and ran out the front door.

And he kept running and kept running.  He felt his phone thump against his hip, the vibrate feature a weird slow tap against him.  And he picked up speed and ran faster. 

Faster to get away from the thoughts that he couldn’t handle right now. 

To get away from her. 

From her sad eyes, wet with unshed tears because he could see that she desperately wanted to give him what he wanted, but at the same time, couldn’t. 

And he knew that.  He knew she couldn’t and it was unfair of him to want her to anyway.

But this whole situation was fucking unfair. 

They were always after him to push himself during training. 

Maybe he’d finally have an answer for how long it took him to get tired.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't be mad! 
> 
> I do love angst, but I also love resolving it! Please keep that in mind...
> 
> (Also, sorry this took so long, but I wanted to make sure this chapter and the next two flowed well and that I did them justice, because some major stuff happening, and I needed to make sure it all made sense. 3 more chapters to go after this, plus a nice long epilogue!)


	11. I Can't Break Away From This Parade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So...still angst in this chapter...sorry... 
> 
> But, I won't be keeping you waiting on the next chapter, so not to worry! 
> 
> These two...just...they constantly have me shaking my head. Dummies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One Headlight, The Wallflowers. 
> 
> Thank you to [heyfrenchfreudiana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana) for beta reading this for me! I had SO MANY versions of this before I decided on this one.

**Darcy**

“Darcy…DARCY?” 

She looked up into Sam’s worried face.  “Hmm?” 

“Whatcha doing?” 

She looked around the coffee shop, she honestly had forgotten she was here. 

She shook her head. “I don’t know.” 

“Where’s Pietro?” 

She shrugged.  “I don’t know.” 

“Have you been here the whole time?” 

“Yeah…” She looked outside.  The sun was starting to set.  It was that weird dusky time of day where it wasn’t day and it wasn’t night either. Stephanie Meyer wrote a book about it. 

_Fuck…how long have I been here?_

“Let’s go home…come on…Jane’s looking for you…” 

She looked down at her watch, noting the time.  6:00 pm.

 _Fuck…Goddamn.  I’ve been here five hours?_  

“I should have been back at work hours ago.” 

“Don’t worry about that…just wanting to make sure…are you okay?”

She looked up into Sam’s eyes.  His gaze was flitting worriedly all over her face.  She nodded, “Yeah.  Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Okay…” He didn’t look convinced.

They got up and walked out onto the sidewalk. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

She shook her head, “Not much to talk about…” 

“Not what I asked.  Do you WANT to talk about it?” 

“I screwed up.  Big time screwed up.”

“Well, we all make mistakes.” 

She laughed dryly, “I think I hit my quota this year.” 

“Well, this isn’t ENTIRELY your fault.  Don’t get me wrong, it still is PARTLY your fault.  But not entirely.” 

She snorted, “I hid something from him.  He had every right to end things.” 

Sam stopped walking, “He ended things?” 

She nodded numbly, “Yeah.” 

“He ENDED things…with you?” 

“Yes.” 

“How did he end it?  What did he say?” 

“He said, ‘I can’t…I can’t do this…’ and he ran off…that was…five hours ago.” 

“Bastard…” Sam muttered under his breath, following Darcy as she started walking again. 

“Don’t call him that.  I deserved it.” 

“No, you didn’t.” 

“Look…I’d rather not talk about this anymore, okay?  I’m okay with the concept, I’m just…I don’t want to talk about that or HIM for a while.  Hopefully he just…stays gone for a bit so I don’t have to see him…”

_Because I can’t look into those eyes and see the hurt I caused.  I just can’t._

“Darcy…I’m sorry…this is the last thing you needed after Lukas and…” 

“Drop it, Wilson.  I’m not a vet. I don’t have PTSD. If I need therapy, I’ll pay some high priced psychiatrist.” 

“Sorry…dropping it.  Consider it dropped.” 

“Thanks…” 

They walked in silence for a while. 

And then the crippling panic gripped her again, twisting her stomach into a balloon animal.  Probably a butterfly or some other cliché.  “Oh god…Lukas.  Lukas…I forgot to call someone and—“ 

Sam patted her shoulder, “Don’t worry.  Clint and I apprehended him.  He’s waiting in a cell to be extradited back to Iceland. With a shiny brand new broken nose.  And arm. And a few ribs for good measure.” 

“Sorry I didn’t…tell someone sooner.” 

_Fuck-up after fuck-up, from the queen mother of all fuck-ups._

“We caught him.  It doesn’t matter,” he said, shrugging. 

She kind of figured it DID matter, but if he wanted to placate her, who was she to judge? 

They didn’t speak again, she just concentrated on holding it together until she got back to her apartment.  There was a big fluffy comforter with her name on it.  And nine seasons of Supernatural on Netflix. 

And if she felt like it later, a quart of rocky road ice cream in the freezer. 

She stared at the carpeted floor of the elevator, shooting through the doors like a bat out of hell, rushing past the group of people in the common area, past Jane and Wanda. Past Steve and whoever the hell else was there.  She couldn’t look at any of them.  Sam would fill them in.  Wanda probably already knew. 

She made her way down the hall to her apartment, pausing at the ‘Go Away’ doormat he’d gotten for her. 

She thought about throwing it away, or at least tossing it away from her door, but the action required energy she was lacking.  She unlocked her door and stumbled inside.  She locked it behind her, kicking off her shoes and dropping her purse and keys on the table. 

She took off her coat, her sweater, her jeans, leaving a trail of clothes back to her bedroom, where she changed into a pair of sweat pants and an oversized t-shirt. 

She had barely pulled back the blankets before the first tears were falling, and she didn’t even know why, honestly.  She didn’t love him.  She thought she might one day, but she didn’t yet.  It shouldn’t hurt this much. 

She was mourning an idea.  A dream. 

Something that hadn’t happened. 

_God, I’m fucking pathetic._

It might have happened.  Maybe.  If she’d been honest with him from the get-go. 

She could have had a happy relationship.  They probably would have moved in together at some point.  Maybe gotten married.  Maybe not.  Played it by ear.  Had some quick little bastards running around underfoot, because let’s face it, neither of them was particularly religious when it came to birth control. 

She slid in between the blankets and pressed her face to the pillow, emitting a low wailing sound muffled by said pillow. 

Or maybe it was never meant to be and she was always supposed to be here, sobbing her heart out alone on her pillow.

Her chest hurt, her throat hurt and the wet sobbing was making it feel better. 

So she kept doing it. 

Because she’d missed an entire day of work and she had to be okay enough to go in tomorrow or things would start to fall apart. 

She didn’t have time for this. 

This is why she shouldn’t ever get into serious relationships. 

Because she was useless when she invariably caused something to fuck them up. 

Never again.

She was here sobbing, and he was probably out moving on, she thought bitterly. 

He was probably out finding some tall blonde…TWINKIE and getting ready to plow HER into the mattress and here SHE was, dribbling snot everywhere and probably looking like an ad for some kind of allergy product. 

Deep down, she knew that probably wasn’t true.  He was probably somewhere thinking or for all she knew, he was in his apartment doing this same thing. 

She wasn’t sure which idea she’d prefer, honestly. 

In her current state, she was feeling selfish and wanting him to be as upset as she was. 

He said he loved her.  Surely he’s not moving on THIS quickly.    

She heard someone knocking on her door, probably Jane. 

She didn’t want to see anyone.  She just wanted to be alone…

Her phone started ringing, sounding muffled.  It was still in her purse. 

“Leave me alone…” she groaned, feeling fresh tears begin to wet her pillowcase. 

She snuggled up into the comforter, pulling a pillow tightly around her ears. 

That seemed to dull the sound sufficiently. 

* * *

 

**Pietro**

How had he ended up here?

He glared at her closed door, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

He raised his fist and pounded on the door again.  “DARCY!” 

***

_She winked at him again, grinning slightly.  Her cheeks reddening._

_Her hair was long, blonde, straight.  Like a curtain.  He tried to imagine it cascading over his face._

_But the only hair he could see, could imagine was HERS.  Dark, like chocolate.  Wavy.  Thick and soft, sweet smelling.  Long strands that he found everywhere after she spent the night._

_That mass of dark waves that hit him in the face when she rolled a certain way, or tickled his nose._

_She’d only spent the night with him twice and he already didn’t know how he was going to sleep without her._

_Goddamn her._

_Fucking…_

_He shook his head and dropped bills on the counter for the bartender.  More than enough for his tab and a generous tip._

_Even if the drinks had just been for the familiar motions._

_The beers did nothing. He felt nothing.  Not even that warmth he used to look forward to as they went down._

_Might as well have been bitter water._

_He zipped out of the bar before the blonde woman tried to come over and talk to him._

_The thought of being with anyone else was excruciating._

_And that had been the whole reason he was here._

_To find someone the complete opposite of her.  Blonde hair.  Tall.  Slender and waifish._

_Nothing like Darcy.  That had been the criteria._

_No dark hair…no one petite enough to scoop into his arms easily, or to rest his head atop when they stood together…no soft curves to run his hands over._

_He groaned as he clenched and unclenched his fists, the memory of her still there.  In his mind, in his fingertips._

_He couldn’t even get revenge on her.  He couldn’t think of hurting her, even though she hurt him._

_If this was love, it was fucking horrible._

_The worst._

_***_

Her door opened, her eyes met his for a split second before she looked away. 

Her face looked…splotchy.  Puffy. 

She pressed her lips together and opened the door further, implying that he should enter. 

He did, quickly. 

Shot past her and over to the middle of her living room. 

If it had phased her, she didn’t let on.  She slowly shut the door, wrapping her arms around her middle and shuffling over to the couch, where she flopped down. 

She stared straight ahead, her jaw set, her eyes hard.  She didn’t look at him. 

If he didn’t know her better, he’d say she hadn’t even seen him yet, but he knew that wasn’t the case. 

She sat there, staring hard, as if she were waiting on him to say something. 

He paced in front of her, arms crossed. “I DECLINE to speak first,” he said flatly. 

She shrugged, pressing her lips together and sitting back. 

“So see…I just…” he sputtered, full well realizing he had already spoken first.  “You have completely RUINED me.” 

She arched an eyebrow, looking him up and down.  “Well, you don’t look like you sat alone in a café for 5 hours followed up by 3 hours of crying, resulting in swollen eyes, swollen face and STRESS HIVES, so…I’d say you look okay to me.”

“You got stress hives?” he asked, spying a dark red blotch peeking out of her shirt right above her collarbone. 

She tugged up on her shirt, “NO…geez…just…noticing that you DON’T have them…” 

He laughed aloud, “I don’t understand why YOU’RE upset…This is YOUR fault.” 

She was silent for a long moment, her eyes moving over him.  He felt…on display…guilty…he looked away, licking his lips and pushing his hair out of his face. 

She snickered, shaking her head.  “So…did you call a previous Twinkie, or did you go find a new one?”

His heart leapt up into his throat and he heard himself choke out, “A new one…” 

She smirked for a split second before the expression fell completely from her face. “Gotcha.”  Her chin quivered slightly before she pressed her lips together, meeting his gaze.  Accusing him.

His temper flared, most likely in response to being caught. 

Caught…ha.  He hadn’t even DONE anything and he felt like he had to defend himself.  SHE’S the one who went out and met up with an ex.  He honestly was at a loss.  He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. 

“No…no you don’t ‘GOT ME’…” he retorted.  “I didn’t DO anything wrong.  I didn’t sleep with anyone.  I couldn’t!  Because YOU’VE RUINED OTHER WOMEN FOR ME!” 

“You could always try men…although they might end up being a bigger pain in your ass than what you’re used to…” 

“No one is a bigger pain in my ass than YOU…” he seethed. 

“Aww, I’m flattered…” 

“No…stop that…no…you can’t…you can’t just…fix everything by being adorable and…” he groaned in frustration, covering his face with his hands momentarily before pushing back his hair.

“Sorry…I’ll try not to do anything else adorable…as long as YOU try not to revenge-fuck anyone?  Deal?”

“I didn’t WANT to do that, that’s not what I was GOING to do, I just…wanted you to hurt like I hurt and that’s the only way I could think to…” 

“But that’s NOT what happened with me at all, Pietro. I wasn’t going to meet…HIM with the express purpose of hurting you, or of sleeping with him.  I was going to GET CLOSURE on a fucked up chapter of my life so I could let go of it and move on.  I made mistakes.  I will admit that I was wrong for not telling you.  I was wrong for keeping it from you.  I did not mean to hurt you…but you…you went out with the EXPRESS purpose of trying to hurt me.  And that is WAY worse.” 

“You’re not turning this around on me…no…I never was GOING to do anything…I never…I would NEVER hurt you on purpose!” 

“Oh…right…” she stood suddenly, crossing the floor to where he stood, she pointed her finger in his face, her hand shaking slightly.  “You never went anywhere, you never DID anything, you just had the thoughts…is that what you’re saying?” 

“I went to a bar, okay?  I didn’t have any intention of…” 

“So you DID go somewhere because you wanted to hurt me?” 

“Much like you…going into a coffee shop with your ex.” 

She turned rapidly away, walking in the opposite direction, turning back to face him again, “Goddammit, Pietro!  I wasn’t thinking about hurting you.  I didn’t WANT to hurt you.  You WANTED to hurt me and if you don’t see how fucked up that is…” 

She dropped her arms beside her, staring at him beseechingly before turning to walk down the hall. 

“No, we’re not done here, Lewis!” 

“What?  Wanna yell at me some more?” 

“Yes, actually…” 

“Fine…” she crossed her arms.  “Get on with it…” she looked down at the floor, her gaze sweeping over to the ottoman by the arm chair. 

And he looked at her, really looked at her.  Her shoulders were hunched, her arms were crossed and grasping tightly at her elbows. 

The dark splotch on her collarbone was back, darker. 

And her bottom lip was quivering. 

And he couldn’t. 

He was mad.  Fucking furious, but he couldn’t find anything to yell about.    

She was looking at him expectantly.

And it was his turn to stare at the floor, feeling sheepish and guilty and like a piece of shit. 

He opened his mouth to apologize, but she spoke first. 

“You should go…”

_No…don’t make me go…please…just tell me how to fix this…_

“I mean…you’re the last person I expected to see since you ended things earlier… and if I had known it was you, I probably wouldn’t have opened the door.  But…I wanted to try to apologize.  I understand that you’re mad…angry…furious with me and that’s…justified.  I just…think we should put this on hold before either of us says anything we regret…” 

He barely heard the last part, it was just words floating in his head.  The thing he fixated on was ‘you ended things earlier’…

“I don’t want this to be over…” he mumbled. 

She sighed. 

“I didn’t want to end things….I don’t want to end things…I just…I don’t know what to do…what to say…is it supposed to be this hard?” 

She didn’t say anything. 

“Tell me it’s not over, Darcy…” 

She shook her head.  “I don’t know if I can…” 

And he didn’t hear the rest of it, because he was zipping out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him and running down the hall to his own. 

 

 

 

    

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get too mad at me, next chapter in TWO DAYS, don't worry! 
> 
> (Remember how I said I like to resolve the angst?)


	12. I'll Be Your Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I said two days, but I really wanted to resolve this angst...
> 
> And I hope I did a good job. 
> 
> Also, you'll get to meet Darcy's brother, Bennet, in this chapter. :) And he calls her Ce-Ce. If that isn't precious, go home, you're jaded. 
> 
> And Pietro jumps to conclusions AGAIN, but this time it ends well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stardust, New Politics
> 
> Special thanks to [heyfrenchfreudiana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana) for beta reading this for me!

**Darcy**

Her phone rang early on Thursday morning. 

Really fucking early. 

Like five in the A.M.

“Hello?” she croaked, not bothering to look at the caller ID, because no matter who it was, they were getting an earful.

“Ce-Ce?”

_Who the fuck still calls me Ce-Ce?  Ben…or Dad.  It’s Ben._

“Ben, I’m gonna fucking murder you.  Do you know what the fuck time it is?” 

“I know, sorry.  Time difference. AND, you’re on speaker…”

Like no one there had heard her curse before. 

“What the fuck do you want?” she asked.

“Just wondering if you remembered what this weekend is…” 

She sat straight up in bed, scrambling with her phone to see the date.  December 19. 

“THIS weekend?” she asked. 

“Right.” 

“Christmas is next week, I haven’t missed it?” she asked, reaching far for the Dickensian reference.   

“No, shit-for-brains.  December 21st…only the most important day of my life?” 

_Oh god, the wedding…I completely forgot about his wedding.  I am the worst sister ever._

“Oh right, of course.  The wedding.  Yeah, bro, I remembered.” 

“Well, are you headed down today?” 

“Yeah.  Totally.” 

_Shit…how am I going to get a fucking plane ticket on the biggest traveling weekend of the year?_

“You got plane tickets?” he asked, as if reading her fucking mind.    

“Ya.  Totes have plane tickets…”  

She wondered vaguely if Tony could help her.

Ben snorted, “Well…I had booked a pair for you months ago, since SOMEONE was certain you’d forget.” 

She felt immense relief. She’d have to remember to give Kurt a big hug and a kiss when she saw him this weekend.  If getting married meant you’d found your better half, Kurt was more like Ben’s better three-quarters or something. 

Not that her brother was bad, but Kurt was fucking amazing.

“Well, I mean…I guess I can use yours, no biggie.” 

“You forgot, didn’t you?” 

“A little bit…I’m so sorry!” she pulled her knees up to her chest.  “When does the flight leave?” 

“Noon.” 

“I’ll be on it.  Promise. I’m so sorry…tell Kurt thanks for knowing me so well…” 

“It’s fine, Darce!” she heard Kurt yell. “Just getting some practice in, soon-to-be-SISTER-in-law!”

“I don’t look at it as gaining another brother, just another pain-in-my-ass…” she teased. 

“Hey listen…we got you a PAIR, so if you want to drag someone along you can…you have the plus one option…” he said expectantly. 

“Well, I’m not bringing anyone…sorry…I’ll reimburse you for the tickets…promise…” 

“You’re not bringing that…Pietro guy you were talking about?” her brother asked in an obviously nonchalant tone.  Like he didn’t REALLY care, but she fucking KNEW her brother and he wanted to be neck deep in whatever drama she incurred. 

She felt her stomach flip at the mention of Pietro’s name.  “No.  Nope.  Not bringing him.  That…didn’t work out.  I’m coming alone…” 

A beat passed before he responded, “Aww…Darce…I’m sorry... Want me to come up there and kick his ass?” 

She almost laughed at the thought of her short-as-hell brother trying to kick Pietro’s ass.  

“I don’t care if he IS an Avenger…I’ll do it.  Texas sized ass-whoopin’…in a…fun-size package…”

“Down, boy…It’s…a long story and I don’t come out of it looking very shiny, so…” 

“So it’s a post honeymoon story…” Kurt filled in.  “We’ll come back from Rio and we’ll buy you ice cream and we’ll sit on the couch and listen to your sob story and then Ben AND I will go kick his ass.” 

“Oh god…” she laughed for real at the thought of both of them kicking Pietro’s ass. 

Kurt could do it.  He was at least as tall as her dad and almost as built as Steve. (God, the Lewis’ had a type).  She guessed being a personal trainer and spin class coach had its benefits.

And he would kick some ass too. In a heartbeat if she gave the okay. 

“Quit with the macho stuff and let me go pack…” 

“Fine.  Just text us to check in when you board the plane…okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“And do you have a dress?” Kurt asked. 

“Sure.” 

_I have many._

“That will match the rest of the wedding party?” 

“…Sure?” 

“What are our colors?” 

She groaned.  She had no idea.  “Blush and Bashful.  You’ve chosen two LOVELY shades of pink, one is MUCH deeper than the other…” 

“If you’re going to quote Steel Magnolias, it’s Ousier or get the fuck out,” Kurt countered. 

“Relax.  We have a dress for you…” Ben sighed heavily.  “Don’t bait her like that…” 

She heard Kurt cackling and what sounded like dishes rattling, signifying his departure from the conversation. 

“Well, thank you…” she repeated again, feeling absolutely horrible that she’d been so far up her own ass for the past few weeks that she’d forgotten about the most important day in her twin’s life.  She really deserved the “Asshole-of-the-Year” award. 

“Dad wants to know if you’re staying for Christmas…” 

“I guess…I mean, it won’t be the same without all that weird crap you make instead of turkey.” 

“Weird crap?  You love my turkey-sage fajitas…” 

That WAS true. Those things were the shit.

“Who’s gonna cook for the starving masses while you’re gone to Rio?” 

“Manuel.  My sous chef.” 

“Sous chef?  I didn’t know there were ranks in a food truck.” 

“Ha. Ha.  There are.  And he’s a damn good sous chef.  No worries about leaving him in charge.” 

_Hmmm…._

“Manuel, you say?  Is he…?” 

“Fifty years old?  Yes, indeed.” 

“Damn…”

She was actually kind of relieved.  She’d have to watch herself.  Not make any stupid mistakes this weekend.        

“Well, I guess dad will probably order Chinese again…since it’ll be just the two of us…” 

“Nope.  He got a turkey.  He’s gonna try deep frying it again. Because Grandma and the cousins are staying.” 

“Great. So I’ll make sure to have the fire department on speed dial…” 

“Please. Don’t let him burn down the neighborhood.” 

She chuckled.  “Okay, well, I should REALLY go and get packed…I’m so sorry I forgot, Benny.” 

“Don’t mention it.  And don’t call me Benny.  Be careful.  Text often.  We’ll pick you up at the airport, Ce-Ce.” 

“If you can call me Ce-Ce, I can call you Benny.  Love you.  Love Kurt…Kurt needs a nickname…Kurtle the Turtle?”

Ben snorted and Kurt protested loudly, “NEVER CALL ME THAT…You forget I know everything your brother knows and I don’t have ANY qualms about using that information…” 

“Point and match…Kurtle.” 

“That’s it.  Your ass is grass and I’m the lawn mower. I’m using your 2nd grade school photo in the wedding programs.”

“For the LOVE OF GOD, don’t do that…” 

She grimaced as she thought of the braids.  The glasses. She shivered. The TURTLENECK… 

“Love you BOTH.  See you soon. And none of my school photos are to go in the program.”

“Fine.  But that nickname dies today,” Kurt insisted. 

“Kurtle had but a short life…” Ben began.

“LOVE YOU.  BYE…”  She ended the call, glancing over at her alarm clock.  She had approximately 6 hours to get to the airport.  And she had to pack for a week in Texas.

Honestly, it was a huge relief.  She was facing a holiday completely alone otherwise.  Surrounded by people, but completely alone. 

And this phone conversation marked the first time she’d laughed since…

Since Pietro had stopped speaking to her.

And Pietro hadn’t spoken to her in over a week.  Almost two.

Not since he’d left her apartment. 

And that fucking hurt.  Even though she knew it was probably for the best, it still stung.  A lot. 

A trip back home was what she needed.  She could hang out with her dad and cry on his shoulder.   

She got up and took a shower.  A quick shower.  Because she was actually excited about something for the first time in ten days.  She had the little pre-trip butterflies. 

She packed.  Light clothing.  No sweaters.  Her phone informed her that it was in the mid-sixties in Galveston, even hotter in Houston, which was where the wedding was happening. 

Then, she had to go inform Jane, who took the news in stride.  Albeit, she was glued to a computer screen for most of it. But, she left her a post-it with her flight information.   

And Tony had to know as well, apparently. 

“But what about the Avengers Christmas party?” he whined. 

“I’m not an Avenger…” 

“Technically, neither am I…” 

“Well…I can’t stay. My brother’s getting married.” 

“Right…” He snapped his fingers, “I think Pep sent them a gift.  A cash basket.  I thought it was appropriate.  And not at all tacky.” 

Darcy laughed.  “I’m sure they’ll love it.  Thanks, Tony…” 

“No problem.  Have fun in Texas, Lewis.  We’ll miss ya.” 

She turned to go, almost running smack into Pietro’s chest. 

She started, looking up at him.  Her mouth went dry and she stumbled backwards.

 _What the fuck is he doing here?_ Her eyes swept the counters, landing on a pair of sneakers. 

 _Super shoes.  Lovely._   

His face was unreadable, but he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. 

It was kind of nice to know she still affected him. 

She pressed her lips together in the semblance of a smile and made for the elevator.  She was ready to be out of this perpetual awkwardness. 

She looked back once, catching his gaze and holding for a few seconds. 

He honestly looked like he was about to say something, but he didn’t. 

She turned away reluctantly and got on the elevator.   

* * *

 

**Pietro**

“Well that was fifty shades of awkward…” Tony quipped as he slid a pair of shoes across the counter towards him.

Pietro glared and took the shoes, turning to leave. 

“Can you try those on here?” 

He sighed in frustration and sat down jarringly on one of the stools.  He kicked off the shoes he was wearing and tugged the new ones on.   

All he could think was that she was leaving.  Leaving. 

Going back to Texas, and here he was, trying on shoes and STILL not talking to her. 

_You fucking idiot.  You love her.  YOU LOVE HER.  Go after her._

“Can you do a couple of laps around the room?  Make sure there isn’t any…burning sensation or anything…” 

“Why would it burn?” he asked warily. 

“No reason.  Just…let me know if it does…”  

He zipped around the counters in the lab like Stark asked. 

He came to a stop beside Dr. Foster’s station.

“No burning!” he called across the lab. 

He did not even want to know what could possibly cause a pair of shoes to…burn. 

He shook out his legs and arms, accidentally knocking something off the desk beside him.  Darcy’s desk, as it turned out.

It was the stuffed…thing he’d gotten Darcy a while ago.  The Doctor Who…thing.  She’d loved it.  Squealed a little, hugged him.  Kissed him.  With tongue. 

He accidently squeezed the thing a little too hard, and it spoke.  He’d forgotten it did that.  He dropped it in surprise, swearing loudly. 

He bent to pick it up, setting it back to the left of her computer monitor. 

It obviously hadn’t meant that much to her, if she’d left it here. 

Was she really not coming back?

He thought about asking Dr. Foster, who looked to be deeply involved with whatever was going on there on her laptop screen. 

 “JFK…” she said quietly. 

He looked around in surprise, thinking perhaps she was talking to herself.  It wasn’t unheard of.  Strange, but not unheard of. 

She turned to look at him, though. 

“What?” he asked. 

“She’s leaving from JFK airport…” she gestured to a post-it on the corner of her laptop. 

And he was gone.

The shoes were amazing.  Absolutely no burning at all.

* * *

 

**Tony**

“You didn’t tell him that she was only going down there for a week, did you?” he asked Jane nonchalantly.

“It must have slipped my mind…” she answered with a grin. 

“Good.  He needed a kick in the pants to get going.” 

“I wouldn’t know about that…but I know that Darcy has been completely morose for the past two weeks.  Which is unacceptable.” 

“You know, they were annoying when they were together.  How are they worse apart?” 

Jane chuckled, shrugging.  “No idea.” 

* * *

 

**Pietro**

He looked around the crowded terminal.  He should have beat her here.  There was no way she could have gotten here before him with the traffic he’d passed. 

He made the rounds, keeping an eye out for her rust colored beanie. 

He spotted her by the front doors and he quickly ran over, stopping beside her. 

“Darcy…”

She yelped, jumping back, dropping her bag. She turned to look at him.  She had snow stuck to her hat, a scarf around her neck.  Her cheeks were flushed red.  He wanted to reach out and brush her cheek. 

“Where did YOU come from?” she looked around as if expecting to see someone else there. 

“I—I…” he stammered.  “I couldn’t let you leave New York without…asking you to stay…” 

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off, stepping closer to her, his fingers grazing the backs of her hands, her forearms.    

“Please…please stay?” he pleaded. “Please…I’m sorry, Darcy.  I’m so sorry.  Don’t leave.  We can…we can work this out, I know we can.  I love you.  I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting…” he licked his lips and kissed her, his breath coming out raw and ragged against her skin.  “I love you…” he murmured, kissing her again.

“Piet…” she broke off the kiss but didn’t move out of his embrace.  “First of all…I’M sorry.  I’M the one who fucked everything up…” 

“No…no…” he nuzzled her cheek as he shook his head.  “You already apologized.  I was the one who…was being a huge…ass. I should have accepted your apology…and I shouldn’t have said all the things I said…I can’t…I wish I could take them all back…I never meant to make you want to leave…”  

She giggled, “I’m going to my brother’s wedding….I was going to stay for Christmas…but I’m planning on coming back afterwards…” She brushed the snow from his hair. “And I forgive you…you big dummy.”    

“Oh…” he chuckled, his cheeks reddening.  “I heard Stark tell you to have fun in Texas and…I…” 

“Jumped to another conclusion without knowing all the facts? Oh unknowable universe…” 

He shrugged.  “But the sentiment…still stands…I love you…I want to work this out, okay?” 

She bit her lip to hold back a smile, “Okay…” she turned those grey eyes up towards him.  “Okay.” 

He grinned, leaning down to nuzzle her nose with his.  “Are we…are we going to be…” 

“Yeah…” she leaned up to peck his lips.  “Yeah…eventually, we’ll be…” 

“Eventually…” he echoed, capturing her mouth again. 

This time, she parted her lips, her tongue darting out to swipe against his. Her hands moved up to his hair, and he’d have fucking PURRED if he’d been able. 

God, he didn’t want her to leave, though. 

He had to stop himself from begging her to come back to the tower with him.

She ended the kiss, scratching her nails along his scalp, making him shiver. 

“How are you going to spend Christmas?” she asked. 

“Probably with Wanda.  And her…significant other.” 

“So…nothing set in stone?”

“No…” he wasn’t sure what she was getting at. 

“You could…you know…come with me…” she raised her eyebrows, widening her eyes and making it hard as hell not to give into her every demand. 

“I’d love to, _Princeza_ , but I don’t think your brother and his fiancée would appreciate me just SHOWING up to the wedding…not to mention, I doubt I could get a ticket to HELL this close to Christmas…”   

He could always RUN down there faster than a plane could fly, but…

“Well…as it would happen, I checked ‘plus one’ on the RSVP, so Ben and Kurt will be THRILLED that you are coming and filling a seat…” 

“Ben and…Kurt?” 

_Ben is her brother, who the fuck is Kurt?_

“Yes.  Kurt.  My brother’s fiancé.” 

“Kurt is a…man?” 

She rolled her eyes, “as opposed to WHAT? A muskrat?” 

“Well, you never mentioned that your brother is gay…” 

“Well…I don’t think of him like that. He’s always been…I’ve always known…I mean…sexuality isn’t a personality trait.  It just IS.  I mean, you didn’t introduce your sister like…’Oh, this is Wanda.  She’s hetero…’” 

“No, it’s more like…this is Wanda…she is dating a blender…” 

She swatted his arm.  “You are terrible.  That blender could be your brother-in-law someday.” 

He made a face, wanting desperately to change the subject. “Are you SURE they wouldn’t be angry?” 

“They won’t be…AND they booked me two seats on this flight…I was going to trade up for first class, but I’d rather have you come along…” 

“I...uh…should pack…” 

“We need to go through security in like…15 minutes…” 

He chuckled. “Not a problem.” 

He was back in 5 minutes time with a gym bag of clothes and his wallet.

She widened her eyes.

“Carry on? Yes?”  He lifted the bag with a grin.

She laughed, shaking her head.  “Yep.  The smartest way to travel…” she lifted her own duffel bag, which he leaned over to take it as well.  Couldn’t very well let her do a thing for herself.  Not when he had almost two weeks’ worth of assholery to make up for. 

“How very chivalrous of you…” she knocked him with her shoulder as they walked towards security.   

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay...I resolved it. Please love me again? ;) 
> 
> Unfortunately, you're FOR REAL THIS TIME going to have to wait a bit for the next chapter. 
> 
> There's just one more chapter, plus a very sexy epilogue. ;P


	13. I Like Vanilla, It's the Finest of the Flavors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which much fluff ensues. 
> 
> There was gonna be smut, but...I got long-winded. So it's going to be in the epilogue. A nice smutty epilogue. Don't worry. <3 
> 
> Also. Darcy's dad: Scary af Texas Ranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [heyfrenchfreudiana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana) for beta reading this for me!
> 
> One Week, Barenaked Ladies  
> Crazy, Aerosmith

**Darcy**

The wedding went down flawlessly. 

Like there was ever any doubt that it would. 

And the reception was fun. 

She was having fun. 

FUN!

She kept repeating that over and over to herself. 

But she couldn’t stop looking at every girl in the room and wondering if THAT was the one Pietro tried to sleep with after he’d left her in the coffee shop. 

And Darcy KNEW it was next to impossible to think that she could actually be here. 

She KNEW that. 

They were in Houston. That girl was probably in New York somewhere.  Or anywhere, really.    

But it was like…every woman she didn’t recognize…any one of them could be her and she felt a little crazed looking at them all. 

In Piet’s defense, he was being perfect.  Staying by her side the whole night.  Even though she was being a bitter anti-social jerk. 

But she saw how they all looked at him and she honestly felt sick.  It was like a disease. 

And why wouldn’t women look at him?  He was fucking gorgeous.  He was wearing the Armani suit they’d inexplicably found in their hotel room when they checked in two nights ago. 

As it turned out, Tony sent it down.  Figured Pietro might need a suit for the wedding.  And it fit him perfectly.  Which, Darcy attributed to the fact that Tony designed the uniforms, so he knew all his measurements. 

Kinda creepy, but okay.    

The Armani suit and no tie, because he wasn’t going to ever wear one, and that was something she needed to make her peace with. 

But he looked fucking amazing and almost everyone was looking at him.  Men, women…everyone.   

And it made her feel…weird.  She didn’t like feeling like this. 

“What is wrong?” he asked for the millionth time that evening. 

She shook her head.  “Nothing.” 

“Okay…” But with the look he gave her, he might as well have said, ‘Bullshit’. 

She took a deep breath. 

_Stop it.  Stop this.  You don’t want to make a huge deal out of it.  You don’t.  This is fun.  This is your brother’s wedding.  Don’t worry about this.  You can bring it up later.  Not here.  Piet’s not going anywhere.  He’s not.  You have no doubts, remember?_

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked.  He was bouncing around, eager for something to do, so she nodded.  Might as well take advantage of the open bar.

“Yeah.  Get me an Aqua Velva…” 

“Aqua Velva…” he repeated, his lips caressing the words in a way that made her feel both sad and needy at the same damn time. He zipped off towards the bar. 

She watched as he appeared at the far end of the bar, surprising a girl to his immediate left.

She’d told him to keep the zipping to a minimum.  But he forgot constantly.  Which wasn’t really anything to get upset over.  Baby just wanted to run.      

Darcy felt her stomach clench up when the girl tossed her hair and laughed, touching Pietro’s arm and whispering something in his ear. 

He straightened immediately, saying something to the bartender who’d just approached. 

She felt worse and worse, watching this chick practically throw herself at him.  He kept smiling tightly, trying not to look at her, inching away from her, cutting his gaze back to Darcy every now and again. 

God, he was worried about HER.  About how this was affecting HER.    

_Remember...no reservations...he's the real deal, Lewis._

Darcy stood. 

_Fuck this.  I’m Darcy fucking Lewis.  And that…is my man.  Pietro is my man.  And no one fucking FLIRTS with my man but me!  SO get ready, bitch.  Hurricane Darcy is about to hit land._

She affixed a smirk on her face as she half sauntered/half stalked over to the bar.  She slid in between Piet and Flirty McStealYoMan and slipped her arm around his waist, leaning up to kiss his lips.  He looked relieved to see her. 

She turned slightly to face her adversary, a pale skinned, black haired, Snow White wannabe that she recognized as someone who sat on Kurt’s side during the ceremony. Up towards the front.  So, family.

“Darcy Lewis, Ben’s sister…” she grinned widely, holding out her hand. 

Because who gave a shit if Snow White was family?

“Amanda Torrence…Kurt’s cousin…” she smiled too, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

What was that look?  Ah, yes.  Disappointment. 

_Fuckin’ A._

“Awesome, nice to meet you,” Darcy held that grin and leaned over against Piet’s side.  “I’m sure you know who he is…” 

“The boyfriend,” he supplied with a smile.

And she wanted to kiss him again just for that. 

“No…yeah…I was just talking to him…just kind of cool to see a superhero here and all…” Amanda supplied lamely. 

The bartender arrived with her drink at that point, and they politely excused themselves. He slipped his arm around her waist and whispered a quick ‘thank you’ in her ear.   

She sipped at the cocktail as they sat down. 

“How many more of those until you dance with me?” he asked leaning forward in his chair slightly, obviously opting to not bring up the elephant in the room that was her complete one-eighty of a personality shift.    

She gazed over at him and poked out her bottom lip.  “Are you bored?” 

“No…I could sit here and lose myself in the depths of your eyes…” he said dryly and waved his hand vaguely in front of her face. 

The ‘depths of her eyes’ rolled and she arched an eyebrow.  “Are you, though?” 

“Well…” he shrugged noncommittally, but she could feel his legs bouncing under the table. 

He was like a puppy or something.  Had to get his exercise.  Maybe she should have taken him out into the country for a run. 

It was supposed to be a joke, but honestly, it might have been a good idea.   

“Next slow song…” she promised. 

And the way his face lit up was worth her extreme dislike of couples dancing. 

And the wailing harmonica intro to Aerosmith’s “Crazy” started before she’d finished her drink, so she knocked back the rest before letting him lead her out onto the dance floor. 

His arms tugged her close.  Close enough to rest her head against his chest/shoulder.

So this wasn’t so bad.  PDA with her hot boyfriend that let every female (and male) sniffing around know that Piet was spoken for.    

“So…you wanna tell me what was wrong?” his voice was low, a rumble in his chest that she felt against her cheek more than she heard. 

“Was?”   

“Well, you are better now…you are acting like yourself again…was it the wedding?” 

She shook her head, not really wanting to talk about it here. 

“Darcy…is it me?”

And he sounded so upset that she immediately answered, shaking her head, “I was just jealous.”  She heard the words form and disappear into the air in front of her.  But she felt like she wanted to snatch them back immediately. 

“Jealous of what?” 

She shrugged, “I dunno, it’s stupid…” 

“It’s not stupid…if it was upsetting you…” 

“I just…all the girls here…they…REALLY like you…” 

“What?” 

“I told you…it’s stupid…” 

“YOU are jealous of…” he gestured with his chin over to the bar.   

She turned to hide her face against his chest. 

How fucking embarrassing. 

He tilted her chin up so she was looking at him.  He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers.  “You might want to give another look, _Princeza…_ maybe at the group of single guys over in the corner…who both hate and want to be me right now?” 

She looked over where he was pointing and rolled her eyes.  “They will just move on to another poor unsuspecting female.  It’s not flattering to be wanted by them…” 

“It’s not flattering to be wanted by THEM either…” he gestured over to the nearly identical group of women flocked around the bar.  “Weddings are a meat market, I’m quickly discovering.” 

“And I brought a nice cut of Prime Rib into the butcher shop with me…” she sighed, tightening her arms around his neck. 

His lips met hers and she sighed again. 

“You have nothing to worry about, Darcy…I love you…” 

She raised an eyebrow, hoping to convey that she actually DID have something to worry about. 

“I love you,” he repeated.  “And besides, your body’s a ten…but in bed…it cranks to eleven…”

“It WHAT?” she tried to suppress a giggle.  “It cranks…to eleven?” 

“Yes…?” he looked slightly worried, “That IS a saying, right?” 

“It is…I just never expected to hear it…thank you…you’re great…” she leaned up to kiss him. 

“But you know that’s not why I love you…right?  You are…so much more than that.” 

She still wasn’t used to him saying that.  The “l” word.  She smiled. 

“So now would be a bad time to say that I’m only with you for that ass?” she reached around to squeeze him for emphasis. 

“See, that’s my hook…I get you addicted…so you can’t leave,” he teased. 

“Weelll…it’s partly that ass and partly that daily dose of vitamin D,” she waggled her eyebrows. 

“Twice daily…” he corrected smugly.  “Well…only once today…you missed a dose…” He pressed her closer, flush against his body.  And she could feel every hard plane pressed close and she kind of wanted to wrap her legs around him and see how long it took him to get out of an Armani suit.   

“I can’t right NOW…” She bit her lip.  “I have to give a speech in like…a half hour.” 

“I feel like I’m being redundant here, but you know who you’re talking to, right?  Quick is right there in my name.” 

She laughed, leaning up to kiss him again. “Couple more hours.  Then I’m all yours.” 

* * *

 

**Pietro**

She was fucking beautiful. 

That dress was…

God, amazing.

He tried to listen to her speech, she was so funny and nervous and adorable. And her brother seemed to enjoy it.  Her brother AND her brother-in-law. 

He couldn’t stop gazing at her.      

“So how do you pronounce your name, son?” 

He turned in surprise and had to look almost straight up to make eye contact with Darcy’s father.  A formidable figure who was well over 6 feet tall.  Broad shouldered and kind of lanky.  He looked extremely out of place in the suit he was wearing.

He was a Texas Ranger, according to Darcy.  Law enforcement, not the baseball team.

And according to his Google search, Texas Rangers were a force to be reckoned with.

Again, the law enforcement, not the baseball team.    

He immediately straightened his posture. 

“Pietro…” he said warily.  “Sir…” he added as an afterthought.

“Pietro…” Mr. Lewis said the name slowly.  “Pietro Maximoff, Sokovia’s favored son.” 

He couldn’t tell if he was being funny or serious, so he made an indeterminate noise. 

“You’re a very impressive gentleman, Pietro.  Your land speed records are simply amazing.  In the last test Tony Stark published…you reached speeds of Mach 1.26, was it?” 

“Mach 1.28…” he corrected before he could stop himself. 

_Fuck…don’t…do that._

“1.28. Wow.  That’s…that is VERY impressive,” he smiled.  If you could call it that.  It was more like a sneer. 

Pietro gulped quietly. 

“Very quick.  Very fast…” Mr. Lewis continued.  Paul.  His name was Paul. 

Who the fuck was he kidding?  His name was Mr. Lewis.

He nodded, “Yes…Sir.” 

Or his name was ‘Sir’.

“You can stop with that ‘Sir’ business, Pete.  We’re past that, aren’t we?” 

“Sorry…” 

“Where was I?  Quick.  Fast…must be hard to keep up with you.  I bet Darcy has no problem though…” 

_Oh god…_

He should say something about Darcy.  He should. 

“Mr…Lewis…I hope you know that…that…I love and respect your daughter very much…and…” 

He put his hand up, “Save it…Darcy’s a big girl.  She’s an adult.  She hasn’t lived under my roof for 8 years.  I’m under no false assumptions.  I know she certainly wasn’t saving herself for marriage.” 

Pietro snorted, “Yeah…” 

And he REALLY wished he hadn’t done that.  Because Mr. Lewis shot him a look that could have simultaneously frozen ice and boiled water.  It was nice to know where Darcy got that look. 

“I mean…sorry…that was…I wish I hadn’t said that…” 

He clapped him on the back.  Hard.  He laughed, which was terrifying.  “No worries.” 

“No…it’s just that…I love her and I don’t find anything wrong with that, especially in light of…” 

“Of the 53.” 

_The what?!_

“I’m sorry?” 

“Well…really the 52…my daughter would be number 53, wouldn’t she?” 

_The hell…?_

“What now?” Pietro’s voice froze up in his throat, making it crack and sound scratchy.

“Fourteen women in Sokovia…and 38 in the States,” Paul Lewis said with a smirk.  “Well…39 including my…” 

“Your daughter,” he stammered.    

“Right.” 

He could literally feel the sweat pouring down his back.  He was pretty sure his ass was sweating.    

“Now, I know my daughter is one in a million…” he paused, correcting himself, “A billion.  Hell, I’d wager there’s not a single person like her in the world.  The only thing I care about here…is whether she’s one OF fifty-three…or—“ 

“I. Love. Her,” Pietro enunciated.  “More than anything, more than anyone…” 

“Do you say that about all of them?” 

“No.” 

“Would you tell me the truth?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why should I believe you?” 

“Because, with all due respect, you scare the shit out of me.” 

Mr. Lewis chuckled and smacked him on the back hard enough to throw him off balance.  “Good.” 

* * *

 

**Darcy**

Pietro joined her the second her speech was finished. 

“How’d I do?” she asked, reaching for his hand. 

“Huh?  Good.  Good, you were…good.” 

“Well geez, don’t hurt yourself trying to come up with different adjectives.”

She HAD note cards, for crying out loud.  It couldn’t have been that bad.

“I just had the most…terrifying conversation with your father.” 

_Oh…_

“Oh?” she tried to look sympathetic.    

“Darcy…he KNOWS things…personal things…he knows my number.” 

“Your phone number?  I think I gave him that.” 

“No.  My NUMBER…the big number.  The number of…ladies,” he whispered the last word like it was a curse or something. 

She snorted.  “OH.  Well, yeah.  He probably did one of his crazy background checks on you.  I warned you about that.” 

“I didn’t think it would be so thorough.” 

“Well.  It was.  So now he knows your number?  What is it?” 

He laughed, “Ha…NO…I don’t think I’m falling for that one.  That is a trap.  A trap.”

“You’re right. Probably shouldn’t share that…wouldn’t want you to feel bad after you hear mine.” 

He smirked, shaking his head, “Don’t do that.  Don’t try to lure me in.  Because I know I’d win, anyway.” 

She rolled her eyes before changing the subject.  “What was so terrifying about it?” 

He paused for an instant before answering, “Why doesn’t your father like me?” 

“What?  Oh.  Because you’re boning his only daughter...I mean…that’s a given, Piet.  He’s not gonna like you. He knows you’re sheathing your pork sword in my…uh…scabbard?” she paused to contemplate that for a moment, “Yeah…scabbard.  My SCABBARD every night.” 

Pietro closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before continuing, “He told me he didn’t care about that.” 

“Well then…” she shrugged.  “I guess can’t help you.” 

She could, actually.  She knew the exact reason why her father didn’t like him.  And it had nothing to do with whether they were boning or not. 

He had cornered her at the rehearsal dinner the night before. 

* * *

 

_“Does it have to be him?”_

_She glanced up at her dad, following his gaze to where Pietro was fending off her amorous grandmother._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“You know what I mean…” he met her gaze.  “Him?”_

_“Dad.  Geez.  Don’t have a cow or anything, I’m just dating him.”_

_“No…” he said sadly, “No, you’re not.  And you’re still a terrible liar.  You’re in love with him and he’s the one, isn’t he?”_

_“Gag me.  ‘The ONE’…”_

_He shrugged noncommittally._

_“Seriously, I don’t love him.”_

_“He loves you.”_

_“Yeah…” she grinned.  “He does.”_

_“I give you two weeks.”_

_She snorted.  “Whatever.  Now that you said that, it’ll be at least three.”_

_He didn’t say anything for a moment.  “Him, really?”_

_“Dad…what’s so bad about him?  If anything, he reminds me a lot of you…”_

_“No…” he groaned._

_“Yes.  He’s a smart ass.  He talks too much.  He has a hard time paying attention.  Dad…it’s you.  Eastern European you.”_

_“And just like your mother, you can always find the exact WORST thing to say, Ce-Ce.”_

_“Dad.  I’m not saying he’s the One.  I’m saying…he’s…my favorite right now.  And he’s a good guy.”_

_“Good guy like Lukas was a good guy?”_

_And there THAT was.  She was wondering if he knew or if she was going to have to tell him._

_“No.  He’s actually a good guy.  And who told you about Lukas?”_

_He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips._

_“It was Ben wasn’t it?”_

_“You’re lucky he told me.  I stopped him from flying up to Iceland and committing an international murder,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone._

_“Ben’s all bark and no bite.  You know that.”_

_“Ben was fucking pissed.  Like a rabid Chihuahua. Foaming at the mouth and everything.”_

_“He was fine when I talked to him on the phone.”_

_“Darcy…” Dad cut her off.  “You know why I’m a little bit reserved here, don’t you?”_

_“Dad.  Go.  Test him.  Test me.  No drugs.”_

_“I’m not talking about that.  I’m talking about your judgement.  Do you really think he’s going to make you happy?  The happiest you could be?”_

_“I don’t know.  And I won’t until it happens.  I know that he makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.”_

_“And you have no reservations?”_

_“NO,” she said definitively._

* * *

 

Pietro bounced around nervously. “Well…Darcy…I need to know…if I’ve done something to offend him or what? Where is his hotel room? Is it close to ours?  Do you think he heard us last night?” 

“Babe, I think the entire floor heard us last night.” 

He frowned, “Do you think that’s what it is?” 

“Piet, don’t worry about it.  It’s not like you’re going to even see him all that much after this week.” 

“I might…” 

“Look.  It’s not even anything that you can fix.  It’s not you, okay?”

He crossed his arms.  “So you DO know why.” 

And dammit, he had her now. 

She nodded grudgingly, “Yes. He might have mentioned something along those lines...” 

“What is it?  Is it my past?  He knew a LOT about my past.  Do you think it was about Ultron?” 

“No.  Piet.  I can tell you with all honesty that it wasn’t.” 

“What then?  I’ve been very congenial.” 

She sighed.  He really wasn’t going to stop until she told him. 

“Dance with me, Doofus.” 

He sighed and obliged her, asking her literally every couple of minutes why her Dad didn’t like him. 

And he continued asking her for the rest of the evening.  ‘

All the way up to their room. 

While she was undressing in front of him. 

That dress slunk to the floor, revealing her fucking bustier and matching lace underwear, and he was talking about her dad.  Talk about a buzzkill. 

While they were showering together. Her wet NAKED body pressed against him wasn’t deterring him.

She had to hand it to him. He was a persistent little shit.

Finally, she answered him.  If only so she could get laid sometime in the near future. 

“He doesn’t like you because he thinks you’re going to take me away from him, Piet.” 

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, buck ass nude and drying her hair, and he wasn’t even looking at her.  He was frowning at the wall behind her head. 

“What? How?  You already LIVE in New York.  That happened…WAY before me.” 

“Yep…” she nodded, staring at him knowingly, willing him to understand so she didn’t have to elaborate. 

 “So why does he think—“his frown slowly stretched into a grin, “OH…” 

“Shut up…” 

He looked down at her lovingly.  “I’m taking you away because you LoOoOoove me…” he teased. 

She scoffed.  “I do not!” 

“You do…” he placed his knee on the bed beside her.  “You love me…and everyone knows…” he bit his lip enticingly and leaned over her, forcing her to lean back on her elbows.

“Oh god.  Shut up…” she turned so his lips pressed against her cheek and not her own.    

“Come here, lover…” his voice was low, but his eyes were twinkling. He was getting a BIG kick out of this. 

“Okay, that word…bums me out.  So clothes are going on…no funny business tonight…you are on probation for using that word.” 

His lips were at her neck and he fucking KNEW that was her weakness. 

“Piet…” it came out a bit more breathy than she’d intended, but she felt his tongue flutter around the sensitive skin.  And his lips were sucking bruises at the same time and it all felt too good and she was inclined to make her peace with the word “lover” if just for right now.

“Hmm?” 

“I don’t love you…” she whispered. 

“Okay…” he smirked, “have it your way, _Princeza.”_

 

 

  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue to go, but not to worry, I have at least 4 QuickTaser fics in the works! :D Not finished with this couple just yet! (Honestly, I might have found my new OTP, ya'll.) 
> 
> Leave me some comments, I LIVE for them! :D


	14. Check Your Clothing at the Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The end! And the promised smut. <3 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Didn't see it coming, Parachute (Because I completely forgot about this song, omg)  
> Shiver Shiver, Walk The Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to heyfrenchfreudiana for beta reading this for me! :D She's amazing. <3

**Darcy**

Darcy knocked loudly on his door for the third time, contemplating calling him to try to wake him up. 

He was probably asleep. 

She looked at her watch.

It was 3 am. 

She’d just gone home two hours ago.  He’d wanted her to stay.  She probably should have. 

But she was trying to have boundaries. 

Which was why she wasn’t using the spare key card he’d given her. 

Because they needed boundaries. Boundaries were a part of any healthy relationship, right? She didn’t want him getting sick of her. 

She heard the lock on the door rattle and the door opened to a very tired looking Pietro, standing there in a pair of pajama bottoms that he was not wearing when she left.  He rubbed his eyes, looking utterly adorable. She almost blurted it out right then. 

_I love you.  You rumpled little sleepyhead._

But she didn’t…because he’d been so patient and wonderful waiting for her to reciprocate his feelings and he deserved more than that. 

“Why didn’t you use the key?” he croaked, squinting into the hallway. 

“Didn’t want to come in without being invited…” she muttered. 

“The key means you’re always invited…” 

“Well…” 

“I mean…that’s why I gave it to you. So you can just come climb in bed.  And then…eventually, I’d wake up and see you.” 

He moved from in front of the door so she could enter his dark apartment. 

He stretched and zipped down the hall. He called out from the bedroom, “Let’s go to bed, _Princeza._ And next time, just stay the night, please…I sleep better when you are here.” 

She toed off her shoes, padding down the hall after him.  She leaned against the doorframe and watched him as he kicked off his pants again. 

_Fuck me, he’s gorgeous._

“I love you, Piet,” she said quietly, unable to keep it in any longer. 

He froze for a second before slipping beneath the covers.  “I know,” he grinned mischievously.  “Now come to bed.” 

She stood there with her mouth hanging open for a few seconds before responding.  “Uh-uh…” she shook her head.  “You are NOT Han-Soloing me when I say that for the first time…” 

He chuckled, “Well, I DO know.  It’s not exactly the most well-kept secret in the world…” 

“HOW do you know?” 

“Because.  Something changed and I could tell.  Sex has been different.  Good-different.  But different.  You’re right.  Making love IS different than fucking.” 

She pursed her lips and shook her head.  “No.  You DON’T know.  Because I just figured it out.” 

He shrugged, “Maybe…but you’ve loved me for a while.” 

“Well…why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, crossing her arms. 

He shrugged, “I figured you’d get around to it eventually.”  

She couldn’t help but grin a little.  “I love you.  Doofus.” 

“I love you, _lutko moja, princezo moja,_ _srce moje…”_

“All of those are nicer than ‘doofus’, aren’t they?  I need to find some better pet names for you…” 

“Technically yes, they are nicer…but coming from you…‘doofus’ is very sweet.” 

“I recognize ‘Doll’ and ‘Princess’ and not the other…” she crossed the floor to the bed.

“It’s just a…name you call your…your sweetheart.” 

“Aww…” she leaned down over him for a kiss.  “Come here, Sugar Lips…” 

He chuckled, “There we go.” 

“Candy Ass…Swizzle Stick…” 

He leaned up and bit gently on her bottom lip. 

“I kind of like Swizzle Stick…” he muttered, her lip still between his teeth.  

“Maybe just in private…” she conceded as his tongue swiped inside her mouth. She hummed, completely lost in the amazing kiss. 

“Are you tired?” he whispered. 

“No…” 

“Good…” he sat up, shifting her into his lap as his hand slid up her body, fingertips dragging over her hip bones and her ribs before settling on her breast.  He cupped it from below, pushing up her tank top so he could close his lips around the nipple. 

She arched into him, moaning as he slowly licked her nipple stiff.

“Piet?” she murmured as he switched sides. 

“Hmm?” 

“When did you know you loved me?” 

He swirled his tongue once before answering.  “Right before I said it.”  He tugged her shirt up and over her head.  His hands skimmed her breasts on the way down to her waist. 

She grunted when he grasped her, pulling her hips closer to his.  She could feel his cock there between them. 

“Have you ever said it to anyone else?” 

He locked eyes with her, his expression a mixture of confusion and arousal.  Which was the cutest, by the way. 

“No.  You’re the first…” he leaned forward to capture her mouth in one of those Pietro-Maximoff-patented-almost-painful kisses.  His teeth teased her bottom lip before his tongue delved inside her mouth, swiping against hers as their lips melded.    

“Okay…but…how did you…KNOW?” she asked between kisses. 

He stopped kissing her, breathing heavily, “I don’t KNOW…” he said, exasperated.  “I just…did.  I looked at you…and I did.  I knew that I…wanted to see your beautiful face…every single day from then on…how did YOU know you loved me?” 

“I dunno…” she said dumbly.  “Same…I guess…” 

And she leaned forward to capture his lips again.  She rose up on her knees so he could pull off her shorts because there was nothing on her mind other than this man between her thighs and how much she wanted him inside her.  She couldn’t speak the words, but she could tell him in other ways.    

She reached down between them, wrapping her hand around him and pumping a few times before lining him up with her entrance. 

“Wait…” he stopped her, leaning over towards the side table for a condom. 

“I’m on the pill…” she reminded him. 

“Are you sure?” he panted, bucking into her hand.    

“Yes, I’m sure.  I remember taking it.” 

He glared at her, “You know what I mean.” 

“Yes.  I do…and yes, I’m sure…” she kissed his scowling lips.  “Are you?” 

He nodded, “Yes…”  He looked down between them to where her hand was still wrapped around his hard length.  He inhaled sharply as she guided him inside her. 

She sank down until her hips touched his, the slight stretch as he filled her now a familiar and welcome sensation.

“ _Kurna_ …” he gasped, his eyes wide and piercing.  She held his gaze as she rocked her hips against him.  She had to admit, she loved making him forget English.  That was without a doubt, the hottest thing he did. 

He parted his legs slightly, pushing her back till her ass hit the mattress and her heels dug into his back.  He braced his feet behind her and rocked forward, forcing her to moan with the intensity of it. 

His brow furrowed, but he never broke her gaze.  His hands clutched at her waist and she met him thrust for thrust. 

God, it was fucking intense. She couldn’t think beyond what she was feeling.  So it was mostly: _Jesus.  Fuck.  Piet.  Piet.  Oh. My. Fuck.  Don’t. Ever. Stop._

And his fucking eyes. 

Her gaze was locked with his and this was the closest she’d ever felt to anyone and fuck it was good 

She gasped, her hands clutching his shoulders. 

He quickened his pace, pumping in and out of her. 

“Fuck…” she groaned.  “I’m…I’m close…” 

“Look at me…” he pleaded.  “I want to watch you come…” 

“Pietro…” 

The headboard behind him began to bump against the wall, but she didn’t really notice because she was chasing her release and trying to hold his gaze for as long as she could. 

She moaned, right on the brink, her head fell back.   

“Look at me…” he whispered.  “Darcy…” 

She locked her eyes on him again, frowning and thrusting her hips erratically when she came.  “Piet…” she moaned as she spasmed around him.  Her feet sought purchase on the headboard behind him.   

“Fuck…I love it when you call me that…” he practically growled as he grasped her hips tightly, slamming into her hard and fast and getting her close again.  Soon.  Almost too soon, but she wasn’t going to complain.  She just held on for dear life as he fucked her relentlessly. 

“Are you going to come again?” he whispered. 

“Maybe…” she gasped. 

“Yes?” his thumb slid down from her hip to her clit, pressing slightly as he bucked into her. 

She let out a breathy sigh, thrusting forward to meet him.  His cock hitting just the right spot over and over and over…his thumb applying just the right pressure to her clit. 

And then he started talking.  He fucking started talking.  A low, rumbling sound that vibrated her chest. 

“Darcy…” he murmured, “Darcy, I love you.  Your pussy feels so good…so fucking good…” 

“Fuck…” she moaned, reaching down to coax his thumb in small circles. 

And he whispered something in Sokovian and she was fucking gone.  

And in her ecstasy, she had the forethought to cache this position away in the permanent file.  Because it was so fucking…intimate. 

“I love you…” she gasped again, the words tumbling out so much easier now that she’d said them once. 

“I love you, Darcy…” he smiled faintly, his grip tightening again. 

“I want you to come…” she whispered. 

His face reddened a little and fuck if he wasn’t adorable.  Horny as hell and still hard inside her, but fucking adorable. 

“God, Pietro…you are so fucking hot…” she shifted, pushing him back onto the pillows.  He grunted as she rose up, slamming down hard like he liked.  His hands roamed, squeezing her ass a little, landing a loud smack before quickly moving up her waist. 

And maybe she liked that a little more than she thought she would. 

Or maybe it was because it was him and whatever he did was hot as hell. 

His eyes raked over her, over her breasts, how they bounced slightly when she rode him, down to where they were joined, and back up to her face.  His pupils were so dark and his breath caught as his hands squeezed her hips.  He nodded, “Yeah…like that…”

He groaned, his legs stiffening a little and she could tell he was close. 

“Look at me…”

His eyes opened and focused hazily on hers.  “ _Ježišmarjá…”_

“Are you close?” 

He nodded, grunting and grasping her hips, holding her still so he could slam up into her.  “So close…” 

And he started babbling again.  Running off at the mouth in Sokovian.  She heard her name every so often.  She wanted to know what he was saying. 

His eyes never left hers, just widened a lot right before his thrusts became erratic and his babbling turned into incoherent moaning and gasping.  She felt his cock twitch, his release hot and slick inside her.  

 _He’s beautiful,_ she thought, gazing down at the flushed, sweaty mess she had reduced him to.  And she knew why he wanted to watch her fall apart.  Because it was fucking gorgeous. 

“I love you…” he gasped, pulling her down for sloppy kisses, hot and wet, all tongues and clashing teeth, an awkward angle because he was still inside her and neither wanted to change that right now.   

“Love you…” she replied, but he swallowed the sound, groaning when she slid off him, absolutely making a bigger mess of him and the sheets than they already had. 

He rolled over to the side, pulling her with him.  Facing each other, legs tangled.  His hand stroked her cheek, sweeping her hair out of her face. 

“So fucking glad I came to the door…” he murmured. 

“You were going to leave me out there?!” 

“You have a key,” he protested. 

“Yes, but we need boundaries.” 

“No, we don’t.”

“Piet…” 

“Is that my come dripping out of you? Nah.  No boundaries needed.” 

She snorted, shaking her head.  She peered over at him, his eyes closed as he stroked her hair. 

“Piet?” 

“Hmm?” he smiled languidly, keeping his eyes closed. 

 _“Volim te više od svega_ ” she murmured, the words feeling strange in her mouth, no matter how many times she’d practiced in front of the mirror at home. 

_I love you more than anything…_

His eyes opened suddenly, focusing on her face.  “What?” 

She repeated herself carefully, praying she hadn’t messed up and told him she liked putting carrots up her ass or something. 

His face spread into a grin, “Where did you learn that, my _princeza_?” 

“Wanda…I asked her how to say it.” 

He raised an eyebrow.  “Oh really?  Just a few hours ago when you realized you loved me? You woke my sister up at 2 am and asked her how to whisper sweet nothings in Sokovian?” 

“It was a few weeks ago…” 

“But…” he rolled over on his stomach.  “I thought you…didn’t love me until two hours ago?”  he smirked triumphantly. 

She rolled her eyes, “Okay, so maybe I was planning ahead.” 

“Or…you knew you loved me.” 

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling.  “Does it matter WHEN it happened?  I mean…we are both saying it now.” 

His lips were on hers, kissing softly.  “ _Volim te,_ Darcy. More than anything.” 

More than anything.

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a few more fics in the works, so not to worry. I'm going to be working on them ASAP. I absolutely LOVE this pairing and could write a million fics about them.
> 
> Leave me comments! I love them! *hearts*

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com)


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